First steps...

The sound of gulls squawking filled the air, waves crashing against the hull of the ship, though they gradually began to calm down. "Land ahoy!" A man located in the crow's nest shouted, he pointed to the horizon as the outline of a landmass grew closer.

The ship was alive, its crew busy at work as they prepared to dock at Boston. Amongst the crew was a passenger, around 6 feet tall and with jet black hair. His accent was that of an upper-class Londoner, thick and exaggerting every word. The ship slowly docked, every man where they should be as they tied her off. Nathan nodded to the ships crew as he made his way down the ramp, connecting the ship to the harbour. He looks around, bag over his shoulder, asif he was expecting someone.

"Blake! Mister Blake!"

A young man coming from the avenue dodged around a buggy, waving to him. Couldn't have been more than twenty? Five and? He approached the pier, eyes shining, far too energetic for this heat.

"Mister Blake, sir?" He extended his left hand in handshake, flicking in a ring finger quickly.

Nathan's eyes dart around the as hears his name called out. His line of sight meets that of a young male, in his twenties. From the looks of him, he seemed full of life and vigor. Was he the welcoming committee? He must of been seeing as he knew Nathan's name.

He watched as the young male extended his hand, noticing the ring of an assassin he smiles to to young male. He then extends his own ring finger, before engaging in a full fledged handshake. "Nathaniel Blake at your service....err your name?" He awaits a reply.

Oh good. The right man.

"Pleasance, sir. Andrew Pleasance, the younger. Votre serviteur." He returned the handshake heartily. "I've been sent to collect you and deliver you to the -uh- meeting place. We've been awaiting your arrival."

Andrew motioned for his charge to follow him. "I've a cart standing ready. No need to tire yourself further." He lowered his voice a degree. "And no need to watch over your shoulder here, sir." He simply turned his eyes toward the rooftops. A body peeked out behind a smoketop just enough to be recognized as one of the Guild.

"Welcome to Boston, Mr Blake."

His attention quickly turns to that of the Assassin located on the rooftop. It was a nice feeling to know that you had somebody watching you're back. Even if it was from a distance. He couldn't help but smiling to himself, being aboard a confined space where the men hadn't washed from months was a trial on its. To be amongst civilised people was something the Nathan longed for.

Boston was a beautiful city, although war from the previous years had taken its toll, the people rebuilt and moved on. A testament to their determination. Slinging his belongings back over his shoulder, he took to following his fellow assassin.

"I must commend you on your hospitality Andrew, you make some of lords back in London seem like mere men. He continued to watch the man as they made their way towards the cart.

Nathan Blake wrote:"I must commend you on your hospitality Andrew, you make some of lords back in London seem like mere men.

Andrew shrugged. "Seems to me money and titles are leveraged for manners these days. O'course, I wouldn't know. Just a backwoods boy, m'self. Got neither money nor titles. Doesn't seem American. Uh, no offense intended, sir."

Even this early in the afternoon, the tavern was doing a business. "Over there? That's 'The Second Lantern'. If you're a man to partake, do yourself a favor and don't go alone. British like to buy you drinks to the point you wake up on one o' their ships, working for 'em. I'll tell ya, the choice of a swim back to shore with your head splittin' or swabbin' a British deck for the rest of your days isn't a choice no man should make."

Upon reaching the cart, Pleasance helped Blake with his gunnysack."Your chariot, Sir." Climbing into it, he took up his reigns. "She isn't much, but I built her m'self and she'll get you where ya need to go. Shall we?"

He watched Andrew closely, attempting to read his body language. Attempting to learn as much about him as possible. He seemed as straight as an arrow, but only time could tell if that would remain.

"None taken Andrew" His accent had seemed to have disappeared, quickly picking up that of the locals. It was a talent he seemed to have been born with. He was fluent in German, French & Spanish and could easily switch between them, so changing ones accent was no hard task at all.

He listened intently as Andrew spun tales of the local Inn, maybe Nathan would find out himself if they were true or not. He couldn't help but smiling, it was rare these days that he found himself in company he enjoyed. They had arrived at the Assassin's cart, it was nothing special but it had wheels and a horse to pull them. Everything it needed. "Alot better than I could do." He laughs slightly as he chucks his bags onto the back and clambers on board.

Andrew nodded his head slightly in thanks and snapped the reigns to put Clover and Revere into motion. The cart bounced long the cobblestone as they left the wharf area.

He didn't honestly like being sent into town on errands, but this was his chance to make nice with the Guild leader. Getting press-ganged was becoming a bit of a sticking point for his advancement. His guest seemed to be taking it all in with a side-long glance, more watching the movements of the Assassin following.

Andrew continued his tour. Basic landmarks, the Church, the other church, the Commons were points he made sure Blake saw, as they were part of their territory.

They had another half a league to go, out to Pop's workshop. "There's not much goin' on today" he began. "Not in this heat. Tends to feel like breathing molasses out here for locals and Tories alike. But I bet after the crossing, you know what precisely I mean. That salt air takes it right out of you."

"Oh I've experienced alot worse" He smirks to himself as he glances around for a moment.So where do you stand in our little ol' order?" He wondered who he was sat next to, maybe it was some fresh meat who had never really seen the blood of an enemy or maybe it was some master assassin, unrivalled by all. Only his reply could answer the questions floating around in the head of Nathan.

He leans back slightly, allowing himself to relax.

Andrew frowned. "Begging your pardon, Mr Blake, but I don't think it terribly prudent to be discussing matters like that out in the open, even while-" he nodded over his shoulder. "If'n you must know, Sir, the higher ups are attending to business and they sent me for ya. If'n ya need more than that t'go on, I'm afraid you'll need to wait."

He straightened himself in his seat. "As I said before, Sir: neither money nor titles." Pleasance hoped that would suffice for now.

He resolved to let the conversation die unless his cargo decided to resume. He felt as though he had already made one of those "fox paws". Was it wrong to not discuss Guild matters openly? Was it just furthering the silence the Templars wanted, instead of talking about it like the weather or town hall meetings? Perhaps the Order was so well established back in the Old World, an Assassin could walk freely. Perhaps such questions could be answered. Pop might know. Or maybe Mr Blake.

Andrew changed his mind. It'd be rude to just ride in silence, especially since he was a guest of his country.

"Well, Sir, you know that my Pop and I are the cartwrights for the area. What is it that held you employment back in England?"

Thomas sat atop a building watching the two men move. His contact had notified him that a new recruit would be arriving overseas, and Thomas sent Andrew Pleasance to greet him, saying that he had a mission to go to.

The man coming off the boat had been promising, but could not be trusted. Thomas continued to trail them from the rooftops.

He listened intently to the fellow assassin, he understood completely that maybe this was not the right time to disucss the order. These lands were uneasy, as well as the people who called them home. "My line of business?"He smirked to himself. He was an assassin, adopted and trained by the master of the Order back in England, there was nothing else he could be. "Lets just say I'm a strong believer in the freedom of man." He pauses as he glances around again. "And I deal with people who threaten that freedom." He smirks to himself again, adjusting his hat slightly to obscure the sun from his eyes.

Andrew nodded, processing his new companion's response. Trained from the cradle? Is that what he meant? He was supposed to be "dedicated to his work" as he was to understand it, but a lifelong member. Mister Blake also seemed to have a smile for all occassions. All walks, it seemed.

Davenport was the central location of their movements, but Dubois still seemed wary of accepting him arms wide open. The Pleasance cartwright shoppe was on the southern end of the land parcel, right on the road, which made the most sense. They'd assemble there to keep the Manorhouse safe. Pop wasn't a member, per se, but a "friend of the fight" as he said.

The trees had been felled to clear the land and for materials, but it was still a shady patch of earth here. Even in the heat, a nice breeze blew through the trees, rejuventating him in the slightest.

He didn't immediately see Dubois, but then again, that was more the point, wasn't it?

"Well, Mister Blake. Welcome to the hospitality of the states."

"The hospitality is well greeted, I hope I may repay your kindness with acts of my own."" He smiles once again. His eyes still obscured by the brim of his hat. From what he had seen, the people of the new world seemed to be good people, good honest people.

The day was indeed a warm one, he gently pulled at his top button, forcing his shirt to pop open slightly. "If you don't mind me asking, how far off are we?"

"Rather close, just a few miles out from Davenport." Thomas said, appearing from the shadows. He had jumped down from the tree and hid in the allyway before walking out to greet the new recruit.

"Thomas Dubois, I'm the leader around these parts." He held out his hand.

"Blake!" a shout rang out through the port. A dozen armed men with no uniforms formed a wall two men deep.
"We bring a message from your brother! FIRE!"

Six men fired simultaneously as the men behind them waited for the smoke to clear.

His attention quickly snapped to man claiming to be leader of the Assassin's. Nathan was given little information regarding this sect of the brotherhood other than that they would find him. Hoping off the cart he walks over to the assassin. Looking him over. He places his palm into the hand of Thomas, wrapping his fingers around his hand in a vice like grip.

He clears his throat as he prepares to speak. "I am Nathan Alexander Blake, but I presume you already knew that. Before he was able to say anything else, he heard his name being bellowed, closely followed by a volley of gunshots. Grabbing the collar of the Andrew, he attempts to drag him off the cart, removing him from harms way.

The guns went off with the distincitive bang, and Thomas' instincts kicked in, ducking knowing how high the muskets usually fire.

He reached for his pistol, hiding behind the cart and unsheathing his hidden blade. "Blake, what the hell is going on?"

Everything to slow down for an instant around Andrew. Blake grabbing onto his collar, the muskets firing, the horses riling. He tumbled to the ground, hard. He reached for his flintlock and began to return fire.

Two of them returned fire. It was fortunate how inaccurate these guns were, so no one was harmed. The Templars' second row took aim as the first row reloaded. For now, they'd need to ignore the two retaliants and focus on Blake.

"Pleasance! Cover me! I'm going up!" Dubois yelled, ducking behind the now overturned wagon and making his way over to the shop.

Pleasance yelped some sort of affirmative as he got between DuBois and the second wave, ducking behind the cart. It took him a full thirty seconds to reload. A Templar's bullet whizzed right by his ear. He ducked instinctively before his brain let him aim again.

He watched over his shoulder as DuBois climbed atop the shoppe's roof.