ASSASSIN CREED BLACK FLAG EPUB
Epub, mobi, opf1. Black Flag () 7. Topics oliver, bowden, assassins, creed, renaissamce, brotherhood, secret, crusade, revelations. The Assassin's Creed series, by Oliver Bowden, is a collection of novels set within the Assassin's Creed video game universe. The books follow. Oliver Bowden - [Assassins Creed 06] - Black Flag (epub) - dokument [*.epub] LAST CHANCE I snarled and came forward, blades cutting half circles in the air, .
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second novel in the series, was released in 's a novelized version of the popular game assassin's creed assassins creed black flag. Download or Read Online Assassin's Creed: Black Flag (Assassin's Creed, #6) by Oliver Bowden Book in PDF Mobi or Epub. Assassin's Creed series () + Assassin's Creed: The Official Movie In the brilliant new novel, Assassin's Creed: Black Flag, discover the.
Ezio's quest will test him to his limits.
Cesare Borgia, a man more villainous and dangerous than his father, the Pope, will not rest until he has conquered Italy. And in such treacherous times, conspiracy is everywhere, even within the ranks of the Brotherhood itself Altair embarks on a formidable mission - one that takes him throughout the Holy Land and shows him the true meaning of the Assassin's Creed.
To demonstrate his commitment, Altair must defeat nine deadly enemies, including Templar leader, Robert de Sable. Altair's life story is told here for the first time: a journey that will change the course of history; his ongoing battle with the Templar conspiracy; a family life that is as tragic as it is shocking; and the ultimate betrayal of an old friend. The library holds not only hidden knowledge but also the most unsettling secret the world has ever known, a secret the Templars hope to use to control humankind's destiny.
Five keys are needed to access the library - to find them, Ezio must travel to the troubled city of Constantinople, where a growing army of Templars threatens to destabilize the Ottoman Empire. Walking in the footsteps of his predecessor, Altair, Ezio must defeat the Templars for the final time. The stakes have never been higher, and what started as a pilgrimage has become a race against time.
Forsaken Assassin's Creed 5 'I am an expert swordsman. And I am skilled in the business of death. I take no pleasure in my skill. Simply, I am good at it. When his family's house is attacked — his father murdered and his sister taken by armed men — Haytham defends his home the only way he can: he kills.
With no family, he is taken in by a mysterious tutor who trains him to become a deadly killer. Consumed by his thirst for revenge, Haytham begins a quest for retribution, trusting no one and questioning everything he has ever known.
Conspiracy and betrayal surround him as he is drawn into the centuries-old battle between the Assassins and the Templars. The cobblestone streets run red with blood as the people rise against the oppressive aristocracy. But revolutionary justice comes at a high price. Nor where.
But it happened during a raid on a Spanish brig. We wanted her supplies, of course. I pride myself on keeping the Jackdaw well stocked. But there was something else on board too. Something we didn't have but needed. Someone, to be precise. A ship's cook. Our own ship's cook and his mate were both dead. The cook's mate had been caught pissing in the ballast, which I didn't allow and so punished him the traditional way, by making him drink a mug of the crew's piss.
I must admit, I've never had it happen before where the mug of punishment piss actually killed the man, but that's what happened with the cook's mate. He drank the mug of piss, went to sleep that night and never got up. Cook was all right by himself for a time, but he did like a nip of rum, and after a nip of rum was apt to take the night air on the poop-deck.
I'd hear him clomping about on the roof of my cabin, dancing a jig. Until one night I heard him clomping about on the roof of my cabin and dancing a jig-followed by a scream and a splash. The bell rang and the crew rushed to the deck, where we dropped anchor and lit lanterns and torches, but of Cook there was no sign.
They had lads working with them, of course, but they were just boys; none of them knew how to do anything more culinary-minded than stir the pot or peel some spuds, and we'd been living on raw grub ever since. Not a man among us knew how to do so much as boil a pot of water.
Now, not long back we'd taken a man-o'-war. A tasty little excursion from which we'd bagged ourselves a brand-spanking-new broadside battery and a holdful of artillery: cutlasses, pikes, muskets, pistols, powder and shot. From one of the captured crew, who then became one of my crew, I'd learnt that the Dons had a particular supply ship on which served an especially adept cook.
Word was that he'd cooked at court but offended the queen and been banished. I didn't believe a word of that but it didn't stop me repeating it, telling the crew we'd have him preparing our meals before the week was out. Sure enough we made it our business to hunt down this particular brig, and when we found it, lost no time in attacking it.
Our new broadside battery came in handy. We drew up alongside and peppered the brig with shot till she broke, the canvas in tatters and the helm splintered in the water. She was already listing as my crew lashed and boarded her, scuttling over her sides like rats, the air heavy with the stink of powder, the sound of muskets popping and cutlasses already beginning to rattle.
I was in among them as always, cutlass in one hand and my hidden blade engaged, the cutlass for melee work, the blades for close finishing.
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Two of them came at me and I made short work of the first, driving my cutlass into the top of his head and slicing his tricorn in half as the blade cleaved his head almost in two. He went to his knees with the blade of my sword between his eyes but the problem was I'd driven it too deep, and when I tried to wrench it free his writhing body came with it. Then the second man was upon me, terror in his eyes, not used to fighting, obviously, and with a flick of the blade I sliced off his nose, which had the desired effect of sending him back with blood spraying from the bloody hole where his beak had been, while I used two hands to finally wrench my cutlass out of the skull of the first attacker and continue the good fight.
It was soon over, with as few of their crew dead as possible, me having given out special instructions that on no account was the cook to be harmed-Whatever happens, I'd said, we have to take the cook alive. As their brig disappeared beneath the water and we sailed away, leaving a fog of powder-smoke and a sea of splintered hull and bobbing bits of broken ship behind us, we gathered their crew on the main deck to flush out the cook, hardly a man among us not salivating, his belly not rumbling, the well-fed look of their crew not lost on us.
Not at all.
Oliver Bowden Assassin's Creed 1 to 8
It was Caroline who taught me how to appreciate good food. Caroline my one true love. In the all-too-brief time we'd spent together she refined my palate, and I liked to think that she'd have approved of my policy towards the repast, and how I'd passed on a love of the finer things to the crew, knowing as I did, partly due to what she'd shown me, that a well-fed man is a happy man, and a happy man is a man less prone to questioning the authority of the ship, which is why in all those years at sea I never had one sniff of mutiny.
Not one. Except it sounded more like, "Beer I bam," owing to his bandaged face, where some fool had cut off his nose. TWO But anyway, where was I? You wanted to know how I met her. Well, therein lies a tale, as they say. Therein lies a tale. For that I need to go much further back, to a time when I was just a simple sheep-farmer, before I knew anything of Assassins or Templars, of Blackbeard, Benjamin Hornigold, of Nassau or The Observatory, and might never have been any the wiser but for a chance meeting at the Auld Shillelagh one hot summer's day back in The thing is, I was one of those young firebrands who liked a drink even though it got me into a few scrapes.
Quite a few. But that's the cross you have to bear if you're a little over-fond of the booze; it's rare to find a drinker with a clean conscience. Most of us will have considered knocking it on the head at one time or another, reforming our lives and perhaps turning to God or trying to make something out of ourselves.
But then noon comes around and you know what's good for that head is another drink, and so you head for the tavern. The taverns I'm referring to were in Bristol, on the south-west coast of dear old England, where we were accustomed to fierce winters and glorious summers, and that year, that particular year, the year that I first met her, , like I say, I was just seventeen years old.
Assassin’s Creed: Black Flag
And, yes-yes, I was drunk when it happened. In those days, you'd have to say I was drunk a lot of the time. But perhaps half of the time. Maybe a bit more.
Home was on the outskirts of a village called Hatherton, seven miles outside Bristol, where we ran a small holding keeping sheep. Father's interests lay with the livestock.
They always had, so having me on board had freed him from the aspect of the business he most despised, which was making the trips into town with the merchandise, haggling with merchants and traders, bargaining, cutting deals. As soon as I'd come of age, by which I mean, as soon as I was enough of a man to meet the eye of our business associates and trade as an equal, well, that's what I did.There was something else too, apart from the foolish notion that Edward in his cups was a better salesman than Edward sober, and that was my state of mind.
Our new broadside battery came in handy. Not at all. Not one. I must admit, I've never had it happen before where the mug of punishment piss actually killed the man, but that's what happened with the cook's mate. Ezio's quest will test him to his limits. It was in the taverns I discovered that my gift of the gab was improved after a few ales at noon.
A customer sat down the bar from me turned away.
It was soon over, with as few of their crew dead as possible, me having given out special instructions that on no account was the cook to be harmed-Whatever happens, I'd said, we have to take the cook alive.