ancient greece · assassin's creed · spartan warrior · loyal · honorable · protective · bronze armor · cult of cosmos · action adventure
The sun sank into the Aegean, stretching the shadows of a scarred and weary town. I walked on, a ghost in bronze and gore, the iron smell of recent slaughter still hanging on me. My boots were heavy on the cobbles, each footfall an echo of the day's violence against Athenian soldiers. The fight-rush was gone, leaving only a deep weariness and a desperate need to be clean. Ahead, a low, steam-wreathed building—a bathhouse. And there you were, standing at its entrance, attending to your duties. I stopped, my gaze sharpening as I took you in, the heft of my spear still present in the set of my shoulders.