Seriously you guys, I love you. Words cannot convey how awesome it was to read such lovely comments as there were on the last part. Also, I promise you that even if it does take me a little while sometimes, I will not stop updating this fill until it reaches its end (which is currently looking to be some way off, ^^; probably past the 20 part mark but we'll see).
Just as he'd expected the cold, salty spray of the sea makes it an extremely unpleasant climb. An unforgiving wind is battering continuously against the cliff, although that does at least help to keep him pressed against the slippery rock-face. Moving as cautiously but still quickly as he can the Assassin has already suffered a number of slips and momentary losses of footing. It would admittedly have been a lot faster and easier for him to just take a leap of faith off and dive in after the idiot, but the fact is that he is keen to stay out of the waves unless absolutely necessary. Getting himself drenched as well will do neither of them any good and there is always the map to think of, securely tucked away as it is in the folds of his clothes.
Hazarding a quick glance back upwards he can make out no sign of detection, no sound of the alarm being raised. It seems that they have gotten away with it, just. And while Braddock has unintentionally evaded death this day they now have a detailed idea of his plans. Assassinating him is going to take somewhat longer than anticipated, but really Connor quite likes the sound of that. The longer this can be dragged out, the longer he gets to spend with his present companion. Of course, he will have to convince Achilles and the others if he is to continue this assignment further, seeing as he has really already learned a great deal of useful information. He will make sure they understand the benefits of this arrangement.
Allowing himself to slither down the last foot or so, he reaches a convenient shelf of rock that juts out from the ridge just above the water-level. Finally turning, the novice allows himself to properly survey the water. Much to his relief he finds that Haytham is swimming in his direction, already most of the way over, looking none the worse for wear other than having lost his hat to the ocean. Waiting he carefully dips a finger into the water, confirming that it is as cold as feared. Too long in there or even too long in wet clothes will certainly put him in danger, death from such exposure is not so uncommon after all. Trying not to think too far down this line of thought, Connor focuses on his priorities; getting his companion back on dry land and into shelter. The latter of which is going to be very much easier said than done. To make matters worse darkness is fast starting to close in as the weather begins to worsen further.
'Cold?' Helping him up onto the ledge he can already read the answer from the lack of heat in the man's skin. He masks his worry with exasperation. 'What made you think that jumping into an ocean in the middle of winter was a good idea?'
'It was that or risk being seen.' Sitting back, dripping wet, eyes closed and breathing deeply, Haytham does seem to be starting to slightly regret his choice in spite of his words.
'Of course...' Connor frowns, still not entirely pleased. Crouched on his haunches at his side, one hand absently rubbing the man's back in a vague attempt at warming, the novice looks up at the cliffs.
There is no question of them staying where they are for any length of time. For one thing the tide seems to be on the rise, for another the harsh winds will only serve to freeze his companion faster. However he can see that it is a long way back to the top, a tough climb considering the Templar's condition. Not to mention that it could well take some time to locate anywhere suitable to bunk down for the night, time that they really do not have. It is not as if there are any settlements within easy distance of the fort. So when he spies a decently sized cave that is not too much higher up, yet still above the tideline, there isn't really much of a choice about it. Besides, it looks large enough to accommodate them fairly comfortably, is at an angle to the wind and will undoubtably be secure against any threat of redcoats descending on them in the night. All things considered it is not a bad option.
Indicating the opening with a motion of his head he asks; 'Can you climb to it?'
'Wet and cold, I may be, but I am still quite capable of climbing a few rocks.' Eying it up with disdain, the grandmaster visibly shivers.
Wishing that he had better supplies to deal with this, Connor simply nods acknowledgement and gives his shoulder a brief squeeze before standing. The sooner they get into shelter the sooner he can start really helping his companion. Thus he wastes no time in setting about picking, and demonstrating, the easiest route to the cave, aware that his every move now is being watched closely. Given that Haytham seems capable of scaling buildings then it is probably safe to say that he can get up a few meters of cliff-face, even in his current condition. After all, just because none of the other Assassins can stay up a tree for the life of them, they are all still perfectly able to race up the side of the nearest steeple.
It thankfully isn't long before he pulls himself up onto the floor of the cave, relieved. Despite the still treacherous nature of the icy rocks the teenager managed to avoid any slips or missteps this time. Giving the place a quick look over confirms that it's an adequate size, stretching back a fair way to provide ample cover from the wind. There's enough room for them both to sleep without having to lie right next to each other. Most importantly, it is fairly dry. Obviously it isn't ideal but it'll certainly do. Testing the dampness of the rock, Connor reflects that what his companion could really use is a fire, for drying his clothes off quicker if nothing else. The very idea of the thing, in such a confined space no less, repulses him however, so even if there were some way of finding useable wood in this weather he would be loathe to try it. Still, some extra protection against the chill would be welcome. What he wouldn't give for his sleeping mat, or a blanket... But it's not like he'll have any luck finding anything like that out here in the-
The supply wagon.
Caught by the sudden burst of inspiration, the young Assassin abruptly turns and collides with the other man. Thankfully they aren't standing near the edge, or else the collision might well have sent them both back into the water. Arms quickly coming up to steady himself, latching onto Haytham's shoulders, he also manages to keep himself from getting wet by close contact. He can feel his underlying shivering, which is in reality a good thing he reminds himself. It's if the shivers stop that his companion is in real danger.
Now comes the tricky part. Well, the embarrassing, mortifying part. Refusing to meet his eyes, Connor faces the inevitable and rushes the order out as fast as he can while still making sense. 'You need to take your clothes off.'
Cocking his head to one side, giving a slight smile, Haytham makes no move to comply. 'Are you offering to help?'
Fairly sure all the blood in his body has now gone straight to his head, the teenager takes an instinctive step back as he tries to get his thoughts straight to reply. 'Yes. No. I... I am going back to the fort.'
'Back?' He frowns, crossing his arms, unimpressed by this announcement. 'Whatever for?'
Still slightly wrong-footed, his response is blunt and to the point as he adopts a similarly defensive posture. This shouldn't be such a surprising decision all things considered. 'Blankets.'
'Connor...'
'Do you wish to freeze to death?' The Assassin snaps, opting for directness because really this is all wasting time.
'Of course not, but-'
'You are going to need protection against the cold and I know exactly where their fresh supplies are. It will not take me long.' Dismissing any further argument he hands over the map for safe-keeping and walks away, retreating to the edge ready to get the climb over with. Of course he doesn't relish the idea but he knows that really needs to be done. This should make keeping his companion warm and alive significantly easier after all.
A noise of frustration definitely follows his departure, but to his relief there is no sign of him making any serious move to follow. Hopefully the man isn't so stubborn as to ignore his main instruction, although he does rather doubt it all things considered. Taking a different, more direct route up the novice is still plagued by a multitude of slippery grips and icy footholds. It's an unfortunate knowledge to know that he's going to have to do it all over again on his return. On reaching the crest Connor finds himself on what is a fairly sized stretch of excess land that sits between the high wall and the abrupt drop. From where he stands he can make out clear routes to either of the cannon posts, one of which would be the obvious choice, but he also notices that a tall tree somehow clinging to life in its marooned position has a number of thick branches that overhang the defences. Without a partner to worry about he is, after all, quite free to exploit his full arsenal of skills.
Around him the air is still thick with snow, the storm showing no signs of abating any time soon. If anything it only seems to be intensifying. The tree could certainly be both the fastest and easiest way back in, and speed is his priority at present. Besides, he feels safe in assuming that the low visibility will prevent any guards from noticing him too quickly, even if they do feel like glancing in that unlikely direction. Decidedly not thinking about the reason he's doing this, the Assassin shimmies himself up the trunk and onto the lowest load-bearing branch. Swinging to the next limb he fast rises to a level equal with the tough wooden walls, unconcerned by the cumbersome spikes that top them. As he settles into a secure crouch he focuses his vision, shifting through the fogged view to pick out a few bright patches of red below. This shouldn't be too complicated.
From his branch vantage-point he can jump to the rooftop of a hut, seemingly empty, and from there he should only have to dodge one lone patrolman to sneak around the main cluster of buildings. Beyond those the wagon still sits, unmoved, unattended and hopefully untouched. The supplies were arranged quite neatly in its back so once he gets to the vehicle finding what he's after should be a simple enough job. Getting back out again shouldn't pose too much of a problem, given the various escape routes he already has mapped out. Only a handful of easily avoidable redcoats are wandering the grounds, all on predictable routes by the look of it. Easy. He could be in and out within a couple of minutes.
What he doesn't count on, however, is the black ice. Landing on the roof on all fours as he does, he isn't quite as badly thrown as he could have been when one leg slips completely out from under him. His ankle twists awkwardly, sending a spike of pain up his spine. Scrabbling for purchase on the icy roof he only just manages to save himself from falling off it entirely, hoping that there isn't anyone below who can hear him. So much for the easy mission. Laying as flat and low as possible, Connor waits several moments, listening for any sign of movement beneath, before he dares move another muscle. Coast apparently clear he slides himself over the side, dropping into a small bank of snow and instantly feeling that same leg jar. Testing it gingerly he determines that the injury is only a sprain, nothing more, and it is mostly capable of taking its share of weight without automatically buckling. So long as he grits his teeth he won't be slowed up all that much.
Limping at top speed he covers the ground to the first clump of grasses easily enough, rolling into it to narrowly avoid being sighted by the guard wandering past on his way up the various steps of Necessity's tiers. Clear, the novice moves on, picking his way through the shadows, avoiding the patches of light thrown out from the windows of the buildings. Vaulting a fence, stumbling on landing, he finds himself in the cover of another strip of vegetation and pushes on, cursing his foot all the while. Just up ahead, nestled close beside a pine tree, is the wagon. This time he eases himself into the cart's back rather more gently, adjusting his eyes for a moment and then beginning his search. Rooting around he probably discovers half the items given in the overheard inventory before he locates what he is really looking for. Thankfully whoever sent the supplies was generous, as there is a decent selection of large, thick blankets on offer. To be safe he takes a couple, sure they won't be missed, as he wouldn't be opposed to having one of his own. However he has a feeling that there is going to be more mention of sharing heat before the day is done.
Fill: Who Will Save You Now? [9/?]
Just as he'd expected the cold, salty spray of the sea makes it an extremely unpleasant climb. An unforgiving wind is battering continuously against the cliff, although that does at least help to keep him pressed against the slippery rock-face. Moving as cautiously but still quickly as he can the Assassin has already suffered a number of slips and momentary losses of footing. It would admittedly have been a lot faster and easier for him to just take a leap of faith off and dive in after the idiot, but the fact is that he is keen to stay out of the waves unless absolutely necessary. Getting himself drenched as well will do neither of them any good and there is always the map to think of, securely tucked away as it is in the folds of his clothes.
Hazarding a quick glance back upwards he can make out no sign of detection, no sound of the alarm being raised. It seems that they have gotten away with it, just. And while Braddock has unintentionally evaded death this day they now have a detailed idea of his plans. Assassinating him is going to take somewhat longer than anticipated, but really Connor quite likes the sound of that. The longer this can be dragged out, the longer he gets to spend with his present companion. Of course, he will have to convince Achilles and the others if he is to continue this assignment further, seeing as he has really already learned a great deal of useful information. He will make sure they understand the benefits of this arrangement.
Allowing himself to slither down the last foot or so, he reaches a convenient shelf of rock that juts out from the ridge just above the water-level. Finally turning, the novice allows himself to properly survey the water. Much to his relief he finds that Haytham is swimming in his direction, already most of the way over, looking none the worse for wear other than having lost his hat to the ocean. Waiting he carefully dips a finger into the water, confirming that it is as cold as feared. Too long in there or even too long in wet clothes will certainly put him in danger, death from such exposure is not so uncommon after all. Trying not to think too far down this line of thought, Connor focuses on his priorities; getting his companion back on dry land and into shelter. The latter of which is going to be very much easier said than done. To make matters worse darkness is fast starting to close in as the weather begins to worsen further.
'Cold?' Helping him up onto the ledge he can already read the answer from the lack of heat in the man's skin. He masks his worry with exasperation. 'What made you think that jumping into an ocean in the middle of winter was a good idea?'
'It was that or risk being seen.' Sitting back, dripping wet, eyes closed and breathing deeply, Haytham does seem to be starting to slightly regret his choice in spite of his words.
'Of course...' Connor frowns, still not entirely pleased. Crouched on his haunches at his side, one hand absently rubbing the man's back in a vague attempt at warming, the novice looks up at the cliffs.
There is no question of them staying where they are for any length of time. For one thing the tide seems to be on the rise, for another the harsh winds will only serve to freeze his companion faster. However he can see that it is a long way back to the top, a tough climb considering the Templar's condition. Not to mention that it could well take some time to locate anywhere suitable to bunk down for the night, time that they really do not have. It is not as if there are any settlements within easy distance of the fort. So when he spies a decently sized cave that is not too much higher up, yet still above the tideline, there isn't really much of a choice about it. Besides, it looks large enough to accommodate them fairly comfortably, is at an angle to the wind and will undoubtably be secure against any threat of redcoats descending on them in the night. All things considered it is not a bad option.
Indicating the opening with a motion of his head he asks; 'Can you climb to it?'
'Wet and cold, I may be, but I am still quite capable of climbing a few rocks.' Eying it up with disdain, the grandmaster visibly shivers.
Wishing that he had better supplies to deal with this, Connor simply nods acknowledgement and gives his shoulder a brief squeeze before standing. The sooner they get into shelter the sooner he can start really helping his companion. Thus he wastes no time in setting about picking, and demonstrating, the easiest route to the cave, aware that his every move now is being watched closely. Given that Haytham seems capable of scaling buildings then it is probably safe to say that he can get up a few meters of cliff-face, even in his current condition. After all, just because none of the other Assassins can stay up a tree for the life of them, they are all still perfectly able to race up the side of the nearest steeple.
It thankfully isn't long before he pulls himself up onto the floor of the cave, relieved. Despite the still treacherous nature of the icy rocks the teenager managed to avoid any slips or missteps this time. Giving the place a quick look over confirms that it's an adequate size, stretching back a fair way to provide ample cover from the wind. There's enough room for them both to sleep without having to lie right next to each other. Most importantly, it is fairly dry. Obviously it isn't ideal but it'll certainly do. Testing the dampness of the rock, Connor reflects that what his companion could really use is a fire, for drying his clothes off quicker if nothing else. The very idea of the thing, in such a confined space no less, repulses him however, so even if there were some way of finding useable wood in this weather he would be loathe to try it. Still, some extra protection against the chill would be welcome. What he wouldn't give for his sleeping mat, or a blanket... But it's not like he'll have any luck finding anything like that out here in the-
The supply wagon.
Caught by the sudden burst of inspiration, the young Assassin abruptly turns and collides with the other man. Thankfully they aren't standing near the edge, or else the collision might well have sent them both back into the water. Arms quickly coming up to steady himself, latching onto Haytham's shoulders, he also manages to keep himself from getting wet by close contact. He can feel his underlying shivering, which is in reality a good thing he reminds himself. It's if the shivers stop that his companion is in real danger.
Now comes the tricky part. Well, the embarrassing, mortifying part. Refusing to meet his eyes, Connor faces the inevitable and rushes the order out as fast as he can while still making sense. 'You need to take your clothes off.'
Cocking his head to one side, giving a slight smile, Haytham makes no move to comply. 'Are you offering to help?'
Fairly sure all the blood in his body has now gone straight to his head, the teenager takes an instinctive step back as he tries to get his thoughts straight to reply. 'Yes. No. I... I am going back to the fort.'
'Back?' He frowns, crossing his arms, unimpressed by this announcement. 'Whatever for?'
Still slightly wrong-footed, his response is blunt and to the point as he adopts a similarly defensive posture. This shouldn't be such a surprising decision all things considered. 'Blankets.'
'Connor...'
'Do you wish to freeze to death?' The Assassin snaps, opting for directness because really this is all wasting time.
'Of course not, but-'
'You are going to need protection against the cold and I know exactly where their fresh supplies are. It will not take me long.' Dismissing any further argument he hands over the map for safe-keeping and walks away, retreating to the edge ready to get the climb over with. Of course he doesn't relish the idea but he knows that really needs to be done. This should make keeping his companion warm and alive significantly easier after all.
A noise of frustration definitely follows his departure, but to his relief there is no sign of him making any serious move to follow. Hopefully the man isn't so stubborn as to ignore his main instruction, although he does rather doubt it all things considered. Taking a different, more direct route up the novice is still plagued by a multitude of slippery grips and icy footholds. It's an unfortunate knowledge to know that he's going to have to do it all over again on his return. On reaching the crest Connor finds himself on what is a fairly sized stretch of excess land that sits between the high wall and the abrupt drop. From where he stands he can make out clear routes to either of the cannon posts, one of which would be the obvious choice, but he also notices that a tall tree somehow clinging to life in its marooned position has a number of thick branches that overhang the defences. Without a partner to worry about he is, after all, quite free to exploit his full arsenal of skills.
Around him the air is still thick with snow, the storm showing no signs of abating any time soon. If anything it only seems to be intensifying. The tree could certainly be both the fastest and easiest way back in, and speed is his priority at present. Besides, he feels safe in assuming that the low visibility will prevent any guards from noticing him too quickly, even if they do feel like glancing in that unlikely direction. Decidedly not thinking about the reason he's doing this, the Assassin shimmies himself up the trunk and onto the lowest load-bearing branch. Swinging to the next limb he fast rises to a level equal with the tough wooden walls, unconcerned by the cumbersome spikes that top them. As he settles into a secure crouch he focuses his vision, shifting through the fogged view to pick out a few bright patches of red below. This shouldn't be too complicated.
From his branch vantage-point he can jump to the rooftop of a hut, seemingly empty, and from there he should only have to dodge one lone patrolman to sneak around the main cluster of buildings. Beyond those the wagon still sits, unmoved, unattended and hopefully untouched. The supplies were arranged quite neatly in its back so once he gets to the vehicle finding what he's after should be a simple enough job. Getting back out again shouldn't pose too much of a problem, given the various escape routes he already has mapped out. Only a handful of easily avoidable redcoats are wandering the grounds, all on predictable routes by the look of it. Easy. He could be in and out within a couple of minutes.
What he doesn't count on, however, is the black ice. Landing on the roof on all fours as he does, he isn't quite as badly thrown as he could have been when one leg slips completely out from under him. His ankle twists awkwardly, sending a spike of pain up his spine. Scrabbling for purchase on the icy roof he only just manages to save himself from falling off it entirely, hoping that there isn't anyone below who can hear him. So much for the easy mission. Laying as flat and low as possible, Connor waits several moments, listening for any sign of movement beneath, before he dares move another muscle. Coast apparently clear he slides himself over the side, dropping into a small bank of snow and instantly feeling that same leg jar. Testing it gingerly he determines that the injury is only a sprain, nothing more, and it is mostly capable of taking its share of weight without automatically buckling. So long as he grits his teeth he won't be slowed up all that much.
Limping at top speed he covers the ground to the first clump of grasses easily enough, rolling into it to narrowly avoid being sighted by the guard wandering past on his way up the various steps of Necessity's tiers. Clear, the novice moves on, picking his way through the shadows, avoiding the patches of light thrown out from the windows of the buildings. Vaulting a fence, stumbling on landing, he finds himself in the cover of another strip of vegetation and pushes on, cursing his foot all the while. Just up ahead, nestled close beside a pine tree, is the wagon. This time he eases himself into the cart's back rather more gently, adjusting his eyes for a moment and then beginning his search. Rooting around he probably discovers half the items given in the overheard inventory before he locates what he is really looking for. Thankfully whoever sent the supplies was generous, as there is a decent selection of large, thick blankets on offer. To be safe he takes a couple, sure they won't be missed, as he wouldn't be opposed to having one of his own. However he has a feeling that there is going to be more mention of sharing heat before the day is done.