Altaïr ibn La-Ahad (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
theflyingone) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2015-04-21 10:51 pm
theflyingone) wrote in thecapitol2015-04-21 10:51 pm
Entry tags:
Let’s go to the mountains.
Who| Altaïr and YOU
What| Very calmly attempting to break a window with a chair. Climbing on buildings outside. You know, behaving.
Where| Various: District 11 common room, Tower roof, the city
When| apr 20
Warnings/Notes| mentions of violence will be the norm for this character because lol he's an assassin
A: D11 common room
Of course Altaïr attacked the people who greeted him. In return, the Peacekeepers gave him several punches and baton hits. They overwhelmed him in a small space with sheer numbers and riot gear. Sporting a cut lip, several bruises, and nondescript but well-fitting athletic clothing, he was marched to his floor's common room and left alone.
He scowled and tugged the hood of his zipper jacket over close-cropped curls.
He did not expect to receive medical attention or even so much as a bandage. His solution to most injuries was to walk them off anyway. But he may as well use a window to inspect his cut lipand brood. He took a moment to stare at the ridiculous amount of glass encasing the deck. This one room had more glass than the most ornate houses of worship he'd seen. Of course, none of the windows would be openable so high up, for safety. He stepped right up to the squeaky-clean wall of glass, unconcerned about the vertigo of the street so far below.
An aquiline face with knitted brows glowered back at him. He curled his lip in a grimace as he raised fingers (all nine of them) to test the drying blood on his mouth.
B: D11 common room 2 electric boogaloo
Altaïr went over what little facts he knew. He'd been imprisoned for someone's amusement. They knew he was a skilled fighter, following his failed attempt to escape the demonstration room. The Gamemakers protected their viewing window with a mysteriously invisible wall of lightning pain. They did not know he was an Assassin, or they would have tortured him for information and then executed him. At least there was that.
There was a lot about this place he didn't know, like why the torches in the ceiling did not flicker or how buildings of mere metal and glass could rise so high. But he considered himself a well-traveled man for his age, and assumed (wrongly) that he would adapt quickly to this foreign place.
Inevitably, a thousand methods of escape brewed in his head, each more rash than the last. He was furious that they expected to keep him here. Impatience clouded his judgment. He had no notion of reinforced glass or video cameras, only that he could jump and climb heights that dizzied most.
All exits were guarded, so he would make one of his own. Without concern for the others in the room, he hefted a chair up and approached the window at a steady march.
C: Tower roof
His first step in new surroundings was always to get his bearings. He was surprised to learn there was sanctioned roof access. (Had he known, he might not have attempted to break a window.) The roof would make a good starting viewpoint. Here on the rooftop among the manicured plants, it was a different world. The bustle down below could still be heard, though the muffled sirens, voiced advertisements, and music were alien to him. Again, the height of the surrounding buildings astonished him. They were taller than the highest manāra he'd ever climbed, and smooth as water.
Challenge accepted.
Altaïr always had sharp eyes. He wasn't looking for it, but as he approached the edge of the roof, the air shimmered. He stopped in his tracks, tilting his head like a confused bird. And there it was again. Like the invisible window that had shocked him unconscious during his demonstration for the Gamemakers. He scowled. There would be no jumping from this rooftop.
D: City
Altaïr decided to test other, less electric boundaries. He knew he could leave the Tower, but he still tensed as he passed through the front entrance. He wondered if the guards would be on high alert and follow him, but he found he could wander into the city untroubled.
Everything was huge and fast. The enclosed metal wagons moved of their own volition at dangerous speeds. Buildings soared upward, their hubris defying gravity. Shopkeepers and their wares were sequestered indoors. There was a distinct lack of sewage smell. Church bells did not toll, neither did any mu’aḏḏin call the people to prayer. The street was devoid of animals and their refuse, save for cosmetic pets on glittering leashes.
And the people. He thought at first they were wearing masks. They were painted to the nines, more colorful than prostitutes, both men and women. Some sort of festival, perhaps? A few stopped to stare and titter at him. Altaïr was painfully aware that he wasn't blending in, and he took off at a fast walk.
He was already building a mental map of the city in his head. The one on his communicator—if he ever figured out how to work the thing—would not tell him where guard posts were or when they changed shifts. When he was sure he wouldn't attract more attention than a few weird looks, he chanced climbing one of the taller buildings for a better view.
A stone building similar in style to a Roman temple housed statues with garish clothes on the first few floors, and apartments on the rest. In the alley next to it, he took the wall at a running jump and began scaling upwards.
What| Very calmly attempting to break a window with a chair. Climbing on buildings outside. You know, behaving.
Where| Various: District 11 common room, Tower roof, the city
When| apr 20
Warnings/Notes| mentions of violence will be the norm for this character because lol he's an assassin
A: D11 common room
Of course Altaïr attacked the people who greeted him. In return, the Peacekeepers gave him several punches and baton hits. They overwhelmed him in a small space with sheer numbers and riot gear. Sporting a cut lip, several bruises, and nondescript but well-fitting athletic clothing, he was marched to his floor's common room and left alone.
He scowled and tugged the hood of his zipper jacket over close-cropped curls.
He did not expect to receive medical attention or even so much as a bandage. His solution to most injuries was to walk them off anyway. But he may as well use a window to inspect his cut lip
An aquiline face with knitted brows glowered back at him. He curled his lip in a grimace as he raised fingers (all nine of them) to test the drying blood on his mouth.
B: D11 common room 2 electric boogaloo
Altaïr went over what little facts he knew. He'd been imprisoned for someone's amusement. They knew he was a skilled fighter, following his failed attempt to escape the demonstration room. The Gamemakers protected their viewing window with a mysteriously invisible wall of lightning pain. They did not know he was an Assassin, or they would have tortured him for information and then executed him. At least there was that.
There was a lot about this place he didn't know, like why the torches in the ceiling did not flicker or how buildings of mere metal and glass could rise so high. But he considered himself a well-traveled man for his age, and assumed (wrongly) that he would adapt quickly to this foreign place.
Inevitably, a thousand methods of escape brewed in his head, each more rash than the last. He was furious that they expected to keep him here. Impatience clouded his judgment. He had no notion of reinforced glass or video cameras, only that he could jump and climb heights that dizzied most.
All exits were guarded, so he would make one of his own. Without concern for the others in the room, he hefted a chair up and approached the window at a steady march.
C: Tower roof
His first step in new surroundings was always to get his bearings. He was surprised to learn there was sanctioned roof access. (Had he known, he might not have attempted to break a window.) The roof would make a good starting viewpoint. Here on the rooftop among the manicured plants, it was a different world. The bustle down below could still be heard, though the muffled sirens, voiced advertisements, and music were alien to him. Again, the height of the surrounding buildings astonished him. They were taller than the highest manāra he'd ever climbed, and smooth as water.
Challenge accepted.
Altaïr always had sharp eyes. He wasn't looking for it, but as he approached the edge of the roof, the air shimmered. He stopped in his tracks, tilting his head like a confused bird. And there it was again. Like the invisible window that had shocked him unconscious during his demonstration for the Gamemakers. He scowled. There would be no jumping from this rooftop.
D: City
Altaïr decided to test other, less electric boundaries. He knew he could leave the Tower, but he still tensed as he passed through the front entrance. He wondered if the guards would be on high alert and follow him, but he found he could wander into the city untroubled.
Everything was huge and fast. The enclosed metal wagons moved of their own volition at dangerous speeds. Buildings soared upward, their hubris defying gravity. Shopkeepers and their wares were sequestered indoors. There was a distinct lack of sewage smell. Church bells did not toll, neither did any mu’aḏḏin call the people to prayer. The street was devoid of animals and their refuse, save for cosmetic pets on glittering leashes.
And the people. He thought at first they were wearing masks. They were painted to the nines, more colorful than prostitutes, both men and women. Some sort of festival, perhaps? A few stopped to stare and titter at him. Altaïr was painfully aware that he wasn't blending in, and he took off at a fast walk.
He was already building a mental map of the city in his head. The one on his communicator—if he ever figured out how to work the thing—would not tell him where guard posts were or when they changed shifts. When he was sure he wouldn't attract more attention than a few weird looks, he chanced climbing one of the taller buildings for a better view.
A stone building similar in style to a Roman temple housed statues with garish clothes on the first few floors, and apartments on the rest. In the alley next to it, he took the wall at a running jump and began scaling upwards.
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