I am a HUGE history nerd.
The fire burned and destroyed all he knew.
His village gone, mother dead.
His friends in grief, no family pride.
No father to point out the path ahead.
So, under a decade later,
Clan Mother gave him a sign.
Un upside down "V",
And under, a curved line.
So off he went,
without a large pack.
Only traditions he was raised with,
nothing physical on his back.
He met and spoke to a man,
called after a Greek hero,
A hard trained Assassin
with a hard row to hoe.
He trained for days, months and years
and learned of the targets.
His father and Charles Lee,
men he could never forget.
So, mixed blood of both sides,
English and Mohawk
And as targets were removed
time ticked off the clock.
And then he was in prison
for doing what was right
A man *almost* got him out
`til he was to be hung in public sight.
Ol` Achilles saved him,
the rope was cut
and another target
had been removed from life`s woodcut.
Then, according to old, dying hero,
told Conner the father was next.
And the knife to not hesitate,
no matter the respect.
In the pure white snow,
no words of compassion were spoke.
Father and son`s words,
both silent... and cold.
Though, in a heart of his hearts,
Conner felt pain...
for, deep, deep down,
we love our fathers the same.
I LOVE HISTORY.
I am the historiest geek in my class.
Yeah, it`s mainly in the revolutionary war, because of...
ASSASSIAN`S CREED III!
Because, ya know, Connor is a hottie <3 XD
I think me and him work good for each other. He likes to aggressively fight, I like to aggressively fight. He likes to shoot stuff, I like to shoot stuff. He likes to wear a whole bunch of different outfits, I LOVE HIS OUTFITS.
So, I decided to write a poem about this guy and his coolness. ;)
And an OC some person (My sister and I) came up with. :)
As a small boy, he played hide and seek.
His friends were kind, for they were full blooded, he was half white.
He tragically did, one day see flames
as he climbed the hill`s height.
The fire burned and destroyed all he knew.
His village gone, mother dead.
His friends in grief, no family pride.
No father to point out the path ahead.
So, under a decade later,
Clan Mother gave him a sign.
Un upside down "V",
And under, a curved line.
So off he went,
without a large pack.
Only traditions he was raised with,
nothing physical on his back.
He met and spoke to a man,
called after a Greek hero,
A hard trained Assassin
with a hard row to hoe.
He trained for days, months and years
and learned of the targets.
His father and Charles Lee,
men he could never forget.
So, mixed blood of both sides,
English and Mohawk
And as targets were removed
time ticked off the clock.
And then he was in prison
for doing what was right
A man *almost* got him out
`til he was to be hung in public sight.
Ol` Achilles saved him,
the rope was cut
and another target
had been removed from life`s woodcut.
Then, according to old, dying hero,
told Conner the father was next.
And the knife to not hesitate,
no matter the respect.
In the pure white snow,
no words of compassion were spoke.
Father and son`s words,
both silent... and cold.
Though, in a heart of his hearts,
Conner felt pain...
for, deep, deep down,
we love our fathers the same.
Next was the final, most hard to get:
The one called Charles Lee.
The one leading the Templars,
the ones funding War`s fees.
As the ship burned,
as it crumbled down,
Conner followed Charles Lee
with a trail of blood on the ground.
One walked away from the tavern, alive,
The other, sitting in a chair, dead.
The one left breathing
followed what Achilles had said.
Conner returned home,
to his old village with a limp
He picked up the Apple,
and held it with a grip.
Afterwards, he met a lovely young gal
where he was unloved, and thought his heart was of stone
When he saw her or heard of her,
it made his heart moan.
I know stand on a hill,
with my husband as a wife.
Conner has put up his ways,
he has put up his knife.
My son and his now plays hide and seek.
His friends are kind, though he`s only three quarters white.
I can see me in my son;
I can see his father`s might.
The one called Charles Lee.
The one leading the Templars,
the ones funding War`s fees.
As the ship burned,
as it crumbled down,
Conner followed Charles Lee
with a trail of blood on the ground.
One walked away from the tavern, alive,
The other, sitting in a chair, dead.
The one left breathing
followed what Achilles had said.
Conner returned home,
to his old village with a limp
He picked up the Apple,
and held it with a grip.
Afterwards, he met a lovely young gal
where he was unloved, and thought his heart was of stone
When he saw her or heard of her,
it made his heart moan.
I know stand on a hill,
with my husband as a wife.
Conner has put up his ways,
he has put up his knife.
My son and his now plays hide and seek.
His friends are kind, though he`s only three quarters white.
I can see me in my son;
I can see his father`s might.
AWWWWW YEAH! I FEEL GOOD~ NO MATTER HO HORRIBLE THAT WAS!! ;)
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