I began writing a COMPLETE knock-off of Assassin's Creed 2

[notgeogzm]

Chapter One: Nascita del bastione (Birth of the bastion)

Nobody would believe the events that took place during my lifetime. However, as I look back on my life, I realize that I have lived a long, fruitful one. As I, the Earth, watch the sun set on me for the last time, I can feel my organs slowly beginning to die out. So during this last week of my time on Earth, I dedicate it to transcribing the events of my life and I hope any of my fellow bretheren who read this learn from my experience. Helena will be duplicating this account in the event that anybody alters the contents. So let me look back at the memories no other would remember.

My name is Damiano Busato de Venezia. This is my life.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck! Am I late?"
"Pazzo (madman)! Your wife is about to produce a child! You should have arrived earlier!"
"Mio carissimo scuse (my dearest apologies), I was...at work."
"Hold her fucking hand! Pessimo (terrible)!"

This exchange of words was between my dearest aunt Piera and my father, Remigio. My father was a dependable husband and loyal companion to my mother, however this particular exchange does not favor him.

"Shit! Cazzo, il dolore! (Fuck, the pain!)"
"It's okay, il mio amore (my darling), I'm here!"
"You're...fucking..USELESS!"
"Just hold on!"
"AH, AAAAAAAAH!"

And with that scream, I was first exposed to the world that I have...contributed to.

"You've done it! Il bambino e nato! (your baby is born!)" my aunt exclaimed.
"Ben fatto my love. We are now mother and father."

I was picked up by the dottore (doctor) who was assisting with my birth. An uncomfortable gloved hand moved my leg to determine whether or not I would be playing with dolls when I was a child or not. The doctor did not say anything, merely smiled and handed me over to Remigio.

"My love, it is a beautiful baby boy!"

Of course, my mother was speechless. She had already gone under the 'miracle' that is birth once. She knew to conserve her energy.

"May I name him?" my father asked.

My mother gave an enervated nod and took several deep breaths.

"I name this beautiful child Damiano! Damiano Busato de Venezia!"

Anyway, enough with the birth. I just figured that would be a suitable introduction to my closest relatives. As I grew up, both me and my siblings were considered model children. I was commended for various academic achievements, however on the day of my fourteenth birthday, I can only assume karma threw me down to the ground.

Chapter Two: Tramonto (Sunset)

I woke up in a sweat. During the night I had a dream that Venezia (Venice) was bombarded by daemons of a truly undesirable stature. It was vivid and the daemons...they looked like men with wings, they didn't cast a shadow in the night. They...they WERE the shadow in the night. Their features were barely distinguishable and would not have been if it weren't for the embers they carried with them to attack the town with. St Mark's Balisica was decimated in a matter of seconds. I looked outside my window in the dream and after five or so minutes, one of the demonios (demon) flew straight towards me. That is where I awoke. It was morning, nearly noon when I woke up and my mother had prepared me a breakfast seconds before I awoke. She handed me my meal.

"Buon compleanno mio figlio meraviglioso (happy birthday my beautiful son). May today be yours."
"Grazie mother. I hope today goes well too."
"Eat up, we're heading to the duomo (church) to meet aunt Piera and uncle Rocco in an hour."

So I ate. I ate everything on my plate. I was still in a sweat. It was December 29th, and 1478 had been a shitty year for me. The papacy returned to Roma, my father began to lose money and my sister befriended a lady of the night. I suppose now is as good a time as any to introduce my siblings, in age order.

Vincenzo, my brother. When I turned fourteen, he was sixteen. The eldest child of my parents, he was the highlight of their offspring. At age twelve, he saved a toddler from drowning to death in the canals. At age fourteen, he published a fictional book. Agile and strong too. I do not feel like I have lived in his shadow, however.

Then there's me. We're going to find out a lot about me later, so let's skip me.

Letizia, my sister. She was a child prodigy. When she was age thirteen, an art academy took her in four years below the standard minimum admission age. She was smart. She didn't mask her art in feelings and emotive bullshit, she painted a picture purely to make it look nice.

Leone, my youngest brother. On my fourteenth birthday, he was nine. He was a good all rounder in terms of education. Trustworthy, he pulled in the ladies as he got older.

So that's a brief introduction. Back to the storytelling.

My mother presented me a canine, an animal I had sought after for a long time. He looked loyal and fierce. Badass by dog standards. Even though he was barely out of the puppy stage.

"Gratzie mother! He is perfect!"

I threw mother a large embrace. A few other gifts from my siblings were handed to me too, and equal thanks given to them all. We heard a knock on the door so Vincenzo answered it. A Venezian guard was waiting at the door.

"Is Remigio Busato da Venezia here?" the guard asked.

My brother took a second to scan over the guard with his eyes. The guard's armor was covered in raindrops. My brother looked up at the guard with a wary look and said:

"I'll have a look around and see if he's in."
"By city law I am required to follow you."
"What? Preposterous! You have no such right."

The guard pushed my brother over as his companions stormed in.

"I do now."

My brother was winded and had to collect his breath. My mother was more aware of the situation than I expected.

"Remigio! The city guard are here! Run!"

A slightly chubbier guard pulled out a switchblade and pierced dear mother's throat. My unnamed canine ran towards the guard and tore his chin apart. As anybody would if a dog just ripped a valuable part of their face off, the guard grabbed him, threw him to the floor and simply squashed him with his metal boot. I was motionless. Shock had imprisoned me in my chair. My father came downstairs in truly amazing clothing, clothing fit for a nobleman and not my father. My father took out the guard who had pushed my brother over by stabbing him with a short dagger. The dagger bounced off of his ribcage and completely seperated his heart in two. The guard gave my father a look of regret before slipping, not just off of his dagger, but in to hell.

Then, my father leaped and tackled the fat man to the floor. His dagger still bloody, he pierced out both of the man's eyes, stabbed him seven times in the chest and kicked him to the side. There were still two more guards. They dropped their weapons and ran outside. My father simply drew out two small knives, and with two fingers, sent them both crusading through the air, where they entered the necks of the remaining two guards. Needless to say, life was cut short for them.

My father turned around to me with a look of panic. He helped Vincenzo up.

"Damiano, we must move quickly. Your mother is dead. Please, my son, come."

I had no idea what the hell was going on.

Chapter Three: Il mio regalo di compleanno è stata la morte (My birthday present was death)

Vincenzo, me and my father got on a horse. Letizia and Leone were in a wagon the horse was towing. We sped straight out of Venezia. We went on for hours and hours. Eventually we were at the Busato homestead, where my grandparents used to live. A large manor and two houses were all that remained. My father urged us to hurry inside. Me and my siblings ran inside. My father sealed the doors shut with various tables and chairs and then activated the system of gears that opened my grandparents' tomb. We hurried on in and he sealed the door behind us. The fact that we were going to be living in a tomb for the next few months was bad enough, but my mother and dog had just been brutally murdered before my eyes.

I didn't sleep for the next three nights. I began to have hallucinations. They were painfully realistic, even worse than my dreams. The same demons from my dreams simply walked around my grandfather's tomb, whispering yet never looking at me, laughing and taunting and their eyes glowed brighter than any candle I have ever seen. They walked. They didn't fly. They didn't attack anybody. But they were grotesque. My mind did not favor me. Eventually, the hallucinations died off and I slipped in to a long, restless sleep.

I slept until noon the next day. My father awoke me. He looked slightly sullen.

"Damiano, I must reveal to you my true life. I am not primarily a poet. My income is from another deed I do. Come."

Still feeling restless, I lifted myself to my feet and followed father around the tomb. He moved the pots which had our emergency food supply inside them to the left and then opened my grandfather's tomb. I did not see a dead body like I had expected. I saw a ladder which lead down to another room.

"Climb down, my child."

Unsure of what exactly was going on, I clambered in to the tomb, still in my nightclothes. There were all the signs of age occuring in this place. Cracks and webs, missing bricks and slabs of stone. Oh, and of course, a few skeletons. I had no idea who would go ahead and die down here though. The actual architecture though, it was beautiful. Pillars lined the walls, and in between them, various murals and mosaics decipting the history of my family. However, I'm purely thinking of what it looked like before it caught the disease of time, which wore the place down. My father ignored everything and simply walked towards a door on the other side of this room. Near the door lay several levers which he pulled in a specific order, which activated a door mechanism and held it open.

"In to the door, vivo (quick)!"

We went in. What lay before me was an arsenal of weapons, various kinds of prestigious armor and many artifacts of times gone by. However I was confused, as my father had no use for this kind of equipment.

"Damiano, I am a hitman. I take contracts and then I murder people. For mere florins. You were raised on the cold-blooded killings of other men and women. I apologize, il mio bambino (my child)."

I simply looked at my father. For at least a minute I was just staring at him without blinking. My eyes showed nothing. I felt nothing. I was raised to react to things that you would see and hear in everyday life, and I wasn't sure how I should react to my father being a sicario (hired killer).

So I just looked down.

"Beh, merda. Chi avrebbe immaginato. (Well, shit. Who would have guessed.)"

At that moment I heard a loud bang. A cannon! The home and tomb were being attacked!

Chapter Four: L'assassino e il ragazzo (The killer and the boy)

My father tossed a sword to me. I had never held a genuine real sword before, and the only other instrument of death I had laid hands on before was a small dagger belonging to my mother, even that had never seen blood. The sword was heavier than I anticipated and I had no idea how to use it. Then my father proceeded to draw out his own sword and ran past me. He climbed up and out of the tomb. I took a few seconds to examine my weapon, and then, sword in hand, clambered out myself.

Just before we headed outside, my father turned around to me and pointed to a wardrobe.

"Inside there is the armor of your grandfather. It's old but this is a dire situation."

And then he turned around and headed outside. I didn't bother to think about what lay outdoors for me and my father. Inside the wardrobe was some rusted, cracked armor which I didn't believe would hold out against even a fly. However, at the time, I wasn't thinking that. I just wore it and headed on outside.

The scene was spectacular. Vincenzo was using a cannon to ward off the Venezian guard, and my Letizia was proving to be savvy with a bow and arrow. Leone, however, was merely a watchman. My father was surrounded by three men who dared to come forward. All three of the Venezians had their blades mere inches away from my father's face, yet they did not strike as they were smart enough to know that if they did, his sword would be inside them within a millisecond. However, my father was in the same place as them. I knew that if I killed at least one of them, then my father would be able to dispose of the other two, but do I want to take the life of another man at this age? Would the lord spare me, if by some off chance he is real? Could I live with the repurcussions of a killer? Do I want to let my father kill them? Do I want to let them kill my father? Do I want my father to die?

Merde (shit). I'm going to become a killer.

I picked my thoughts up and then ran towards the man with his back turned to me. It was as if I was jousting. My sword extended, I let out a scream of anger. The man began to turn towards me the second my sword came in to contact with his skin, and I could feel the blade go straight up through his pelvis, as it collided with several ribs and exited through his heart. My first kill was a trophy kill. Without thinking, I simply pulled my blade from his body and kicked him off. My father's face lit up like a candle and I felt a newfound sense of duty. Father lunged out and tried to cut one of the Venezians, however he deflected the blow. I stepped in and prevented the other Venezian from stabbing him, and then me and my father both span to where the other was and cut both of the Venezians. Within seconds of my first kill I had just made another. This time my sword became lodged halfway through the guard's neck, and a nice little fountain of blood erupted from the wound. I ripped the sword straight out.

"You're a born warrior, Damiano!"

My father's excitement was short lived.

"Cazzo! (fuck) Leone!"

I turned around and saw my brother struggling with a Venezian. If I didn't do something, he was going to die for sure. I sprinted towards the home, and clambered up using several bricks as a foothold. I managed to get to the balcony, but it was too late.

"Ah, ah! Damiano! Help!"

I lept with my sword, however the Venezian guard deflected it with his, and my sword plunged straight in to Leone's skull.

"Leone! Brutto idiota! Io cazzo omicidio te! (you fucking idiot! I'll fucking murder you!)"

However rage did not help me earn a third (or fourth?) kill. The guard punched me in the face and I was rendered unconscious.

So there you go. My girlfriend likes the first chapter so I kept on writing it. Then I realized I had ripped off AC2. And now you can see my blatant ripoff.

[wewt!]

Hey this kind of reminds me of AC2

[notgeogzm]

Here have a shitty chapter I wrote to try and separate it from AC2 but ended up just making it worse

Chapter Five: La morte o la frase (the death or the sentence)

I regained consciousness. My ear felt cold, and wet. A putrid smell came from the other side of the room and the only illumination came from a candle on a table in the middle of the room. I got up. Bars. I was in a cell. A shitty, dirty cell for a shitty, dirty murderer. At least, that was how I viewed myself. A pile of hay (stained with blood) lay on the other side of the room, near the bars. Broken chains dangled next to the bars. Another set of bars acted as a window. I decided to take a look outside, and I could see the Venetian Market stalls. A thief ran towards an apple stall whilst the owner had his back turned. I figured the thief had children. Unsure of what to do, I slumped on to my blood stained haybale and sunk in to an uncomfortable sleep.

I awoke.

"Damiano."

Okay, so it took me a second to actually wake up.

"Damiano. Get up."

Maybe it took a few minutes.

"If you don't get up I'll rip your balls off."

I got up instantly. Vincenzo was at the window, dressed in armor akin my fathers.

"Little brother got stuck in a cell? Ha."

Sibling rivalry proved to pull through even in the most desperate of times.

"Now's not the time, Vincenzo. Get me out of here."
"I would if I had the key, idiot."
"Who says you need a key? I'm guessing there's a sword with that armor?"
"Nope."
"What? What the fuck are you doing then? Get a sword!"
"I didn't bring one. I brought this thing."

Vincenzo drew from his back a large mace. How such a studious family could turn to combatants so quickly surprised me.

"Stand back, little brother."

With a loud clang, he clubbed the weak, old bars out of place. There was a gap just large enough for me to squeeze through, with any luck.

"Hurry, somebody's going to have heard that."

I had trouble getting through though.

"Cazzo! It's too small!"
"Stand back again."

This time, he whacked the bottom three bars that were left way out of place. One even hit me in the arm.

"Fuck! You pazzo (idiot)!"
"Doesn't matter, get up and come with me. We don't have time to dick around now."

I exited through the window and my brother handed me my sword, the very same sword from the day before.

"C'mon."

Me and Vincenzo ran and he jumped from the roof of the prison to another. It was one hell of a gap considering the weight he was carrying. I ran and jumped, and yet again I wasn't thinking straight. Halfway through the leap I looked down. I wasn't going to make it. I had made a jump too long. Five meters was out of my range. Just as I began to sink, I saw Vincenzo's hand outstretched. With all my strength, I grabbed his hand, and with my left hand, grabbed the ledge he was standing on.

"Oh shit! Holy fuck! Shit!"
"Little brother can't jump, I see."

He pulled me up.

"I'm sorry, I don't jump over a fucking building every day! Shit, shit...holy shit!"
"Enough with the shit. Come."

We carried on over several, considerably shorter, jumps until we were on the roof of our home.

"We're killers now, brother. I use this as an excuse to feel no more emotion when I take more lives."
"Why do you tell me this, Vincenzo?"
"Because we're about to take a life each."
"What?"
"Two guards in front of our door. Take this dagger, on my word, leap down and stab the left one in the neck. If you miss, just go fucking crazy. They're the only ones guarding the home."
"Vincenzo, is death necessary? Can't we just knock them out?"
"No pain, no gain. Three. Two. One."

I looked down for a split-second. The two guards were conversing. I wasn't sure what they were talking about, however in that tiny fraction of time, I wandered if the guard I was to kill had a family. A life. Wife. Kids. Debts to pay that would be left in the hands of his family.

But I figured revenge would be better. This man was endorsing the death of my mother for mere florins. Fuck it. I'm doing it.

"Go!"

It was about a two meter drop. I didn't care. I pulled out my knife and aimed for his neck. I heard a squelch and felt the short blade exit the other side of his neck. For a teenager, I was a pretty good killer. My brother, however, did not succeed. It was the dead of night, so I blamed that for his miss.

"Merde! (Shit!)"

The guard grabbed my brother, held a knife to his throat and spat in his face.

"You little cunt!"

I withdrew my knife from the other guard's neck and with all the force I could muster up I stabbed him straight in the lung. He fell. I took my knife from him, and then stabbed his other lung and made sure that he wouldn't be able to breathe. What the fuck was I doing? This is a human being and I'm treating him as a toy! I'm fucked up. I'm really fucked up. I left my knife in his body, an amateur mistake.

Vincenzo just observed.

"Shit, little brother! Shit!"

I imitated him earlier.

"Enough with the shit! Help me drag this guy away."

After concealing the bodies in a cart of straw, we headed in to our old home. Mother's body was still there, in rigor mortis, decomposing. My heart sunk. Vincenzo knelt beside her and grabbed her legs.

"Help me give mother a proper burial. We're putting her in that cart o' straw."

Two tears danced a duet down my cheeks.

"Okay...okay."

Shaking, I grabbed my mother's cavader by the arms and we tossed her in the cart. We pushed it all the way up the road to the graveyard, and dug a shitty grave. A shitty grave for our excellent mother.

"Put her in, baby brother."

Baby brother. The first time I had heard that phrase since I was five. I rolled my mother's corpse in to the dirt.

"E 'con grande dolore che la tua vita è stata presa così presto. Requiescat in pace. (It is with great woe that your life was taken so early. Rest in peace.)"

"Ben detto, fratellino. (Well said, little brother.)"

And with that, we covered her up and left. I had many questions about yesterday that I wanted answered.

[Kagrs]

I'm sorry, but if you already realize this is a complete knock-off and call your chapters shitty I think I'll pass.

[notgeogzm]

[QUOTE=Kagrs;30259806]I'm sorry, but if you already realize this is a complete knock-off and call your chapters shitty I think I'll pass.[/QUOTE]

Completely worth posting. I only called chapter five shitty. Do not fill in my words for me.

[Kagrs]

Just post your story, don't call it shitty, don't call it a knock-off, stop whining about low self-esteem when it comes to your work because it immediately puts people off and either gives them a negative impression before they even begin reading or they won't read at all and your little thread dies along with your hopes of ever being recognized as a potentially decent author.

[Mr. Bleak]

They're pretty decent but it annoys me to no end when people try to "immerse" people in their writing by adding single sentences in the language of the character, then the rest in English.

I realize AC does it, and it's stupid. "Oh here, we'll put one sentence you won't be able to understand in Italian even though you understand that he's from Italy"

[Janizaurd]

^
Yeah, it's enough if you just state the location, and nationality of the person, and just write everything in english.

[notgeogzm]

I figured it just looked nice. Sometimes I feel it's necessary to remind people that they're in Italy because I had images in my head of medieval britain at one point, but I suppose if other people don't need it...

[TH89]

Maybe you can have them say "boy it sure is nice living here in Italy"

or "Ezio meet me at the Coliseum, which is in Italy"

[editline]6th June 2011[/editline]

"Ezio, please join my family and I for dinner. we are having Italian food"

[notgeogzm]

ezio please have sex with my sister

[SeverePapercut]

ezio you are an assassin and you must follow a creed 2 be successful in life

[notgeogzm]

now deliver a shity lettre

[editline]6th June 2011[/editline]

capiche