Chapter 1: Principesse e Castelli
Our dead are never dead to us, until we have forgotten them. ~ George Eliot
The Vault, Capella Sistina, Rome, Italy
28th December 1499
01:35PM
What kind of sorcery is this?
Ezio Auditore stood in awe, listening to the goddess in front of him as she delivered her message. A message to a phantom, no doubt, because it certainly wasn't directed towards him.
"It is done. The message is delivered," the goddess, Minerva, spoke, addressing something, or someone, behind Ezio, "We are gone now from this world. All of us. We can do no more. The rest is up to you, Desmond."
Ezio didn't understand. "What? Who is Desmond?"
Minerva suddenly turned to face him. "Be silent, O Prophet!" she snapped in an unusually harsh tone. Returning to her previously calm and collected manner, the goddess straightened slowly. "We have a message for you as well."
The assassin stepped back. "A message? From who?"
Minerva approached him. Ezio tried to move, but his limbs did not respond. "Our distant relatives, from far beyond the stars." She reached out and grabbed his hand. Blinded by a sudden light, he opened his mouth to scream, but no sound escaped.
An ear-splitting screech filled the room, and suddenly the Vault was empty.
A blinding light filled Ezio’s eyes. “Argh, cazzo!” he grunted.
Wait, I can move again.
The assassin's eyes fluttered open tentatively. There was no proper way to describe where he was. Nothing but a white landscape surrounded him. It was as if he'd fallen into one of Leonardo's canvases. He was, quite literally, nowhere.
“What is this rifiuti?” he murmured, looking around, although there wasn't much to look at. A strange shape was beginning to form, not too far from him. Intrigued, he approached it cautiously. Upon closer inspection, Ezio found that it was, to put it bluntly, an expanding ball of white fur. He was about to reach out and touch it when it expanded again suddenly, taking the shape of something that seemed equine in nature.
“Greetings, Signore Auditore,” it spoke suddenly. It was definitely female, judging by it’s voice.
“How do you know my name?” Ezio asked, trying to keep his composure. Studying the creature, he found that it resembled a horse. It was snow white in colour, with a multi-coloured mane, large wings sprouting from it's back and a horn atop it’s forehead. A strange symbol was etched upon each flank and it appeared to be wearing a crown of sorts.
"I have my ways," the female equine said slyly, bearing a mischievous smile. "I assume Minerva sent you?"
"Yes, how do you know about her?"
"I suppose you could say that we are distant relatives," she said, her smile losing it's mischievous nature and becoming warm and caring, "Besides, where are my manners? My name is Princess Celestia." She held out a front hoof.
"Ezio Auditore da Firenze." He took her hoof in his hand and shook it. "But I suppose you already knew that." She nodded. “Forgive me if I sound forward, but who are you?”
She cleared her throat. “I am the ruler of a land called Equestria, in an alternate universe to yours,” she told him, a regal tone to her voice, “I make sure that all of my little ponies live in peace and harmony.”
Ponies. A land of ponies. I don’t like where this is going.
“And I’m assuming you need me for something there?”
Her face turned grim. “Yes. You see, my land is in terrible danger.”
“Danger? From what?”
“To put it simply, my universe’s equivalent of Minerva’s people. Except, instead of trying to prevent a global disaster, like in your world, they are the disaster.”
Ezio listened intently. “What do you mean?”
“Long, long ago, when I was just a filly, there was a war, between the ponies and... them,” she explained, “You see, my sister and I are two of the few... how should I put it, crossbreeds, between ponies and the First Civilization.”
Ezio nodded, and motioned for her to continue.
“We defeated them using the power of six artifacts known as the Elements of Harmony and managed to exile them to the outer reaches of space. But now, they’re back. My world has not known war for a very long time, Ezio, and we are simply not powerful enough to stop them this time.”
Ezio though for a second. "Tell me more of these 'Elements of Harmony'."
Celestia cleared her throat. "We found them while hiding from the First Civilization during the war, and harnessed their power to defeat them. Now their power lies solely in the hearts of six very special ponies, but I fear that their power alone will not be enough this time."
The Master Assassin sighed. “And I suppose this is where I come in?”
She nodded. “You’re special, Ezio. You are one of four people throughout the history of your world that have enormous amounts of First Civilization DNA.”
Ezio gave her a confused look.
She chuckled. “Oh, right. To put it bluntly, you and these other three men carry some of the most superhuman qualities that belonged to your First Civilization ancestors.”
“Like my talent?”
“Yes, Eagle Vision is a trait your share with them.” She held out her hoof again. “I know this is forward, but time is precious, doubly so these days.” She looked him straight in the eye. “Will you help us, Messer Auditore?”
Ezio thought for a moment, avoiding her gaze. “Sì, but I don’t want to stay. After it is over, I wish to return to Italia.”
“Of course. After all, you must begin the liberazione,” she said with a smile. Before he could ask what she meant, a familiar light blinded him, and he fell into the all too familiar embrace of unconsciousness.
***
The ancient city of Shambhala, Tibet
August 13th, 2009 A.D.
5:34PM
The whole place was crumbling to pieces around them. It was a broken paradise. So much for the tree of life, Nathan Drake thought, as he confronted his wounded enemy. "Lazarevic!" he called out, his M4 trained on the clearly injured war criminal, who had fallen to his knees.
"You think I am a monster," Zoran Lazarevic spat, ignoring the pain that bled through his body, "but you are no different from me, Drake." Nate stared into his cold, soulless eyes as he continued. "How many men have you killed?" he asked, "How many, just today?"
Nate approached him quickly, the sights of his gun aligned perfectly with the Russian's forehead.
"That's it boy," Lazarevic hissed, "No compassion. No mercy." He threw open his arms, staring straight at his adversary. Nate hesitated. "DO IT!" he screamed.
Drake thought for a second, before lowering his gun. "No," he said simply.
Lazarevic smiled and chuckled. "You don't have the will."
"Maybe not." Nate pointed at something behind his enemy. "But they do."
Confused, Lazarevic followed Nathan's gaze. Swarming towards him were the Guardians of Shambhala. Grotesque, purple monsters that were twisted and deformed by drinking the sap from the tree of life. With a terrifying roar, they leapt onto the intruder, picking him up and beating him into the ground mercilessly. Without thinking twice, Nate scrambled out of the pit he was in and back into the crumbling city above.
Climbing onto the bridge that led to the city's gates, he watched in horror as it started to break away around him. "Holy shit..." Horrified, he started to sprint towards the exit, leaping over gaps in the already collapsing bridge as he went. "Why does this always happen to me?" he cried hysterically.
Finally nearing the end of the bridge, he leapt over one more open chasm before noticing his two friends, Chloe Frazer and the seriously injured Elena Fisher sitting by the staircase out of the city.
Chloe noticed him running towards them. "Nate?"
"Chloe? Thank god!"
She smiled. "Nate!" There was a sudden tremor that almost knocked her over. "Whoa, Jesus!"
Nate's eyes widened in horror as he saw one of the city's guardians slowly stand up behind her. "Run!" he screamed.
"What?"
"Behind you!"
"Huh?"
"Look out!"
Chloe turned around, but too late. The Guardian grabbed her, but another sudden tremor knocked all three of them off their feet and sent them sliding towards the chasm below. Unphased, the Guardian tried to attack Chloe.
"Shit!" Nathan pulled out his handgun and unloaded the clip into the monster, startling it. Chloe took the brief window of opportunity and kicked it straight in the jaw, sending it flying off the edge.
Nate breathed a quick sigh of relief, which was quickly replaced by a gasp of fear as he realized he was too late to stop himself from tumbling over the edge as well. "No, no, no!" He tried to twist around a grab the edge, but to no avail. He fell into the abyss screaming.
Chloe reached the edge in time to see her friend plummet to his certain doom. "Nate, no!" He disappeared from sight.
Nate twisted and writhed as he fell. Spinning around to face the ground, he closed his eyes as he saw the rapidly approaching ground. He braced himself for impact.
But it never came.
There was a flash of light, and he blacked out. As he slipped into unconsciousness, he heard a soft, regal voice.
“Don’t worry Nathan, everything’s going to be alright...”
***
Beecher’s Hope, West Elizabeth, USA
July 17th 1911 A.D.
4:09PM
Peace. That’s all he wanted. Peace, and to start a new life with his family. Unfortunately, thanks to the US Government, John Marston wasn’t going to get either. Leaving the bullet-riddled body of his friend, Uncle, he sprinted towards the barn on his family’s ranch. There was a respite of gunfire. They must be repositioning, he thought.
Hurrying inside, he saw his wife, Abigail, and son, Jack, huddled in the corner. “Come on,” he said to them, motioning for them to come closer, “Now listen.” He looked at his son. “Jack.” He looked across to his wife and saw the pain in her eyes. She knew it was goodbye. “Darling. Get on this horse.” He patted the chestnut-coloured beast that stood in the middle of the barn. “Get out of here. Go find a place to hide.”
“You’re coming with us, Pa,” Jack told him as he climbed on.
“I’ll catch up.” John didn’t want to lie, but he just couldn’t tell them. It would take a miracle for him to get out of this alive. “You keep riding and don’t look back,” he ordered his son, “And don’t be worrying about me, you hear? Now get going!”
“You stay out of trouble, John.” Abigail struggled to hold back her tears.
“Ain’t no trouble Abigail,” he assured her, “Ain’t no trouble.” She leaned down and kissed him. “I love you,” he told his wife.
“I love you.”
“Now go.” He slapped the rear of the horse. “Get!” Startled, the beast reared and galloped out of the decaying barn. Breathing slowly, John watched them go.
Silence. Well, I guess this is it. Walking towards the door, he edged it open slowly. As he expected, about half the US Army had their guns trained on him. Closing his eyes, John stepped back inside again. He took a deep breath, threw open the barn doors, and strolled outside.
I ain’t gonna take this lying down. Drawing his revolver, time seemed to slow down as John blew out the brains of the six soldiers unfortunate enough to be standing at the front of the group. It was futile, however, as every single soldier opened fire on the exposed gunman.
John Marston fell to his knees, struggling to breathe. As his world started to turn black, he saw his betrayer, Edgar Ross, take out a cigar and light it. Losing his struggle with death, John fell backwards, life drained from his body.
As John lay dying on the grass of his ranch, he heard a soft voice talk to him, seemingly from nowhere.
“Hello John. Don’t worry, you’re going to be fine...”
***
New Marais, Louisiana, USA
August 20th, 2009
3:44 PM
The fisherman sat on the old, worn-down jetty, watching the world go by. The last few days in this city had been crazy. Well, crazier than usual. A giant monster rampaging through the city. A beam of light shooting through the sky. Hundreds of people dropping dead for seemingly no reason at all.
But it was all worth it. Because, for all those who died, millions were going to live. The plague that had been taking many of New Marais’ citizens and somehow been cured. He was grateful; he was suffering the final stages of The Plague when it all happened. Now he was fine. As healthy as ever.
He turned his head, noticing a slightly overweight man haul a coffin into a boat on the other side of the dock, helped by a few other men. The fisherman sighed. The greatest sacrifice of all had been him. The Electric Man. Cole MacGrath. People had started calling him “The Patron Saint of New Marais”, and rightfully so. He had transformed this city from an empty shell to the bustling party city it used to be in just over a couple of weeks.
Zeke Dunbar nodded at the fisherman who was smiling at him from across the water. Thanking the members of the now redundant Militia, he pushed down the throttle and set off into the open Louisiana waters.
Storm clouds were brewing over the rough sea. Brilliant, Zeke thought, just what I need. Sighing, he pulled out his journal, writing the last few sentences of his latest entry.
“People keep talking as if humans and conduits are completely different. But that’s bullshit. Because they’re ain’t nobody with more humanity than Cole MacGrath.”
Satisfied, he put his journal back in his bag. A loud rumble tore across the sky. Thunder. Just great.
Suddenly, there was an ear-shattering clap of thunder and a flash of light that nearly tipped the boat right over. Shit. Struck by lightning, just perfect. Getting up, he staggered over to the coffin in the middle of the boat. There were scorch marks. Lightning must’ve been attracted to his electrical charges, or something. Heaving off the lid, he almost fell over in shock.
Cole’s body was gone. As if it had been erased from existence.
“What the fuck?”
***
Canterlot Castle, Equestria
16th May, 1002 C.R.
9:34PM
Ezio slowly stirred into consciousness. Uh, where am I? He looked around. He appeared to be in some sort of guest room. There was a chest of drawers and a wardrobe, and a neatly made bed that he was snugly tucked into, but not much else. Laid upon the chest of drawers were his signature Assassin robes. But from where he lay, they looked much too small for him. But that could only mean...
“Oh, merda...”
He slowly looked down at his body, dreading what he would see. Sure enough, instead of the bipedal form the assassin had become accustomed to, he was now fully equine in nature. “No, no, no, this isn’t happening...” He rolled over and off the bed, landing in a heap on the floor. It took a few tries, but he slowly managed to stand on all four of his hooves.
From where he was stood, he could examine the rest of his body. He had a gray coat and black mane, which was styled in the same way as it had always been. Glancing back at his flank, Ezio noticed that the Assassin insignia seemed to be permanently branded there. No wings or horn, he noted.
Inch by inch, he managed to make his way over to the chest of drawers and slip on his robes. After a few paces around the room, Ezio got the hang of walking in his new form. Everything seemed to come naturally, as if he’d known how to do it all his life. Sighing, he opened the door and stepped into the corridor.
Further down the hall stood a guard, who had immediately noticed Ezio leave his room. “Oh, good evening sir, I see you’re finally awake.” Ignoring him, the assassin tried to make his way past him, but the guard blocked his path. “Sorry pal, you can’t leave your room until breakfast tomorrow morning. Princess’ orders.”
Ezio eyed the stallion for a moment. He didn’t look particularly strong or muscular. He looked more like the type of idiot who was all talk. His youthful run-ins with the youngest member of the de' Pazzi family sprung to mind. “Get out of my way, stronzo.” He tried to push past him.
With surprising force, the guard stopped him again. “Come on sir. Please return to your room.”
I’ve had enough of this crap. I didn’t sign up to be turned into something out of a children’s story. Without warning, Ezio grabbed the guard and threw him violently against the wall, knocking him out. Grabbing his sword, he quickly made his way down the corridor and through the next door...
...to be met by about a dozen or so guards. One stallion in particular stood out from the rest. He must be the captain. The Master Assassin readied his sword in defence as the blue maned unicorn stepped forward.
“Hey, how did you get out of your room? None of you were supposed to wake up until tomorrow morning.” Ezio didn’t respond. The stallion sighed. “Come on buddy, I don’t want to fight you.”
“Tough luck.” Raising his sword, Ezio tried to barge past the Royal Guard Captain, but to no avail. The stallion was more adept with the sword than he was, and it took all of Ezio’s skills just to hold his own. Strangely, none of the other guards were getting involved in the fight. Must think they might miss a swing and kill their commander, he thought. Noticing an opening, Ezio dodged the stallion’s heavy swing and kicked the inside of his knee, knocking him off his feet. He was about to deliver the knockout blow when he heard a gut wrenching scream.
“Shining Armor, no!”
Ezio turned to see the source of the noise: a bright pink alicorn who had just entered the room. Seizing the opportunity, the stallion leapt up and knocked the blade out of Ezio’s hoof. Seeing the guards gather around him menacingly, the assassin did the only thing he could.
He ran.
***
The next morning...
The guards in this world weren’t stupid, he’d give them that. They had immediately noticed the bale of hay next to them suspiciously shudder violently, and in no time at all they had Ezio out of there and on his way back to the castle. To his surprise, and relief, they didn’t throw him in some sort of dungeon. Instead they put him back in his room and politely asked him not to behave like that again. Wow, they really are friendly here.
Now he was standing in the lobby of the castle with three other stallions. One leant against the wall, occasionally taking off his old hat and dusting it off before putting it back on his head. The second constantly fiddled with some sort of ring that was hung around his neck by a lanyard, and the last one somehow made some sort of electrical charge jump between his hooves.
According to the princess, they were supposed to make some sort of dramatic entrance. Probably her way of having fun in this grim situation. He listened to her speak to the ponies she was having breakfast with. Snobby aristocrats who wouldn’t give a shit about them, no doubt.
The doors were suddenly thrown open. Must be our cue, he thought. Taking a deep breath, he stepped through the threshold into the hall beyond.
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is the last one ummm Cole MacGrath?
720539 Um, yes.
725751 Eeyup, they are. But Cole was the only one to have his powers fully activated.
This is going to be awesome even if I never played RDR or uncharted. So far so good. Good thing is that the characters in your story and the ones in my story are completely different. Even though we have the same concept.
720630 so are the other 2 john marston from red dead redemption and Nathan Drake from the uncharted series?
906350 Yep.
Are they standing on their hind legs? I'm not sure how Ezio could have grabbed his sword and been talking at the same time. Also, Cole was sending electricity between his hooves. He couldn't have done that standing on all fours.
I was hoping they were all assassins, like Ezio, Altair, Desmond and Conner
How's he ho;ding his sword?
2417940
his mouth
So, they are ponified?
*sigh*
Got my hopes up and smashed them utterly.
Well done.
2580957 I know how ya feel. *sigh*
2596165
Same here. Though I'll still give it a chance
2580957
Ya, I am with you on that.
Ponification kills the characters a little bit. It's great for art, but not storytelling.
The biggest problem with it is that a smaller, quadrupedal body would reduce pretty much any martial art and fighting training to near-uselessness.
Every hand-to-hand or melee weapon fighting style ever conceived revolves around training you to use your body.
If you suddenly find you lack hands, have FAR less weight, and a smaller body with a lower center of gravity, then you must re-learn EVERYTHING from basics.
It's not possible to handle yourself properly in combat if you have no experience in your own body.
And even if magic is responsible for them unexplainibly knowing how to use their bodies, you've still reduced their unique fighting style to rubble.
It's all rendered unusable without the right body.
They'd have to learn an entire alien fighting system.
Well, almost. John Marston should still be able to shoot pretty well, and Cole MacGrath can still shoot bolts of energy. But that's about it.
What made them good fighters with these talents is all in their knowledge of what to do, and how to do it. Take away what they know, and they come up with plans that won't work in the body their minds are used to "thinking on-the-fly" for.
(IE, I must use my hands to pry open that door". Oh, that's right, I don't have hands anymore. That was a wonderful waste of several seconds in the heat of battle.)
what shining armore better with a swoord then ezio
????
what i just read
3345833
well, i'd imagine trying to hold a sword with your mouth is harder then holding it with magic
reactiongifs.us/wp-content/uploads/2013/05/at-at_faceplant.gif
SO luna, I would love to hear about more of the amazing feats ponies have triumphed over humans, when it comes to...
0-media-cdn.foolz.us/ffuuka/board/tg/image/1346/95/1346959214846.jpg
4781296 Don't you just love it when the last part of a message dissa-
4781296
One of the photos is broken as the link won’t work.
895658
Tried finding your story but it will not work or link properly.