1 year 5 months ago
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Ezio Auditore, the fire of Firenze, pulls the guard close in passionate embrace. It’s an intimacy born not of love but its close cousin, hate. Gripping the man around the neck, Ezio holds him steady so that a nearby thief - hired at a fixed rate of 150 florins for an indefinite period of rooftop troublemaking - can take a free swing at his exposed abdomen. The sword connects, though not with its intended target. Instead it catches Ezio in the shoulder, knocking the assassin off-balance. He teeters backward across the tiles and over the lip of the building, falling three floors into the packed street below. The farce of it all is worth every one of the twelve hitpoints he loses in the process.