Directions: take a thesaurus or other book of choice (such as dictionary or encyclopedia even) and either drop it or randomly flip to a page. Then, without looking at either page, put your finger on a random spot on the page. Take the word closest to your finger and write a one-shot story with it as a theme. Changing words is not allowed, no matter how odd or seemingly impossible it might be. No using synonyms or antonyms of the word either. You are using a dictionary/thesaurus so saying you don't know what the word means will not fly in this. Good luck and have fun.

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Renege: to go back on one's word or fail to follow through on an agreement

If Altair had a saving grace, it was his honesty. His way of "lying" included staying aggravatingly mum, skillfully evading the truth, or simply walking away in mid-sentence. Even those who had been bitten the hardest by his arrogant condescending attitude had to grudgingly admit that they had never caught the master assassin lying.

No one ever really thought about it too much. It just wasn't something they really took into consideration. Only Malik and Badoura really took notice. They were his closest friends, had been since they had been children, and knew full well that he had indeed told his share of lies to their elders like any other child. But, for some reason or another, that had stopped not long after they had entered their adolescent years. Right after Mahmud had been killed.

Everyone knew that it was Mahmud who had saved Altair's life as a young child and had brought him to Masyaf as an orphan to be raised as an assassin. Altair had been as attached to the older assassin as he was to Al Mualim. Only Badoura and Malik knew how hard Mahmud's death really weighed on the master assassin, though he never showed it.

Though they had never been able to actually prove it, they suspected that there was a correlation between Altair's aversion to lying and Mahmud's death.

They weren't too far off, either. Altair had indeed stopped lying the day he saw Mahmud murdered. It had been a lesson he had never forgotten.

He couldn't really remember why he had been in that small village with Mahmud then. It might have been for novice assignment, or he might have simply been a tag along. But he could recall that village distinctly.

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It was a small, out-of-the-way village, nestled between Masyaf and Acre by a tiny lake that had long since dried up, quite a ways off the main road. There were about a hundred or so people living there, living in small huts that formed a haphazard circle. The center of the village was empty, but deep gouges in the earth told him that something had been there recently, something rather heavy. The people themselves were extremely quite and wary around the two assassins, but Altair had long since been used to it, novice though he was, and hadn't paid much attention to it.

However, the entire village had a dark feeling to it, making him feel edgy and suspicious. There was something about this particular village, that at any other time or place might have been considered quaint, that just felt off.

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He remembered that Mahmud had been sent there to negotiate with the leader of the village, about what he forgot, but he thought it might have been either to make the village a safe haven for the assassin trying to avoid soldiers, both Crusader and Muslim alike, or to use the village in an upcoming mission of some sort. Whatever it was Mahmud had been having trouble.

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The village elder was not very keen on the idea of assassins coming and going through his small little village, despite the fact that he knew, just as everyone did, that the assassins could afford them protection from bandits and soldiers alike that no one else could and that they really didn't care about the going-ons of the village and would therefore leave them alone.

The young novice wasn't really paying attention to the arguing between the frustrated assassin and the stubborn elder but was watching the rest of the village. Most of the women had gone inside, taking the few children he had seen with them. The men were watching discreetly from a distance, making Altair feel as if he and Mahmud were being surrounded. He knew that Mahmud felt it as well, judging by how he was standing, with his right hand close to his sword, his left fingers twitching ever so slightly as he usually did before deploying the hidden blade and his feet already in position to shift to a fighting stance, by the way he was standing partially in front of the novice he was charged with protecting.

Just as Altair felt like he couldn't stand the tension anymore, Mahmud gave up. He walked swiftly out of the village, Altair close at his heels, eager to be away, with the elder's promise to think about the offer and to keep their presence surreptitious.

That night, on their way home, everything fell apart and went straight to hell.

They had been as discreet as possible, not even drawing a second glance from the soldiers' as they passed. So Mahmud felt it safe to stop and rest in the cover of darkness, seeing as how neither of them had been able to get much sleep if any at all for the last several days.

Despite his exhaustion, Altair was unable to sleep. He hadn't been able to shake that feeling that something was wrong. Ever since they had left that village, he had felt edgy. Even the horses were nervous.

He glanced over at Mahmud, his silhouette barely visible in the dark even with his white robes. Altair sometimes wondered if he, and Al Mualim for that matter, ever slept. He was still sitting in the same position as he had been hours ago, calmly surveying the road and the surrounding area for any signs of trouble. It calmed him somewhat, allowing his exhaustion to sink in again. His eyes were just starting to close when the distinctive sound of metal sliding on leather made his eyes snap back open.

Mahmud had his sword drawn, standing as if ready for a fight. Altair got up as silently as possible, exhaustion forgotten as adrenaline pumped through him, his senses straining. For a moment he didn't see or hear anything but then he heard a twig snap. It was a soft sound; one easily mistaken for the wind, but to the trained senses of an assassin, even to a novice, the foot that caused it was easily heard.

Altair desperately wished at that moment that he wasn't a novice so he could wield a blade. He hated feeling helpless and right now, standing in the dark between an alert assassin and unseen enemies without a weapon to speak of to defend himself, qualified as such.

Mahmud was suddenly next to him, grabbing his shoulder and turning towards his horse, giving him a small push. The silent message was clear; get out of here. But even if Altair had been inclined to obey, which he wasn't, he couldn't have done so. He suddenly realized that they were completely surrounded by several dozen soldiers. It was one of the very few times in his life that the bitter taste of fear filled his mouth.

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To this day Altair still wasn't sure how he managed to get away, but he didn't really care. He had been grievously injured in the ensuing fight, barely managing to get away. He remembered looking up to see a sword seemingly grow out of Mahmud's chest.

But what stuck in his mind even more vividly than watching the man who had saved his life, twice now, sink to the ground in a pool of blood was the words of the captain of the soldiers.

"The village elder sends his regards."

It had been a lesson he had never forgot. The man had lied to them, had broken his promise. And it had cost Mahmud his life and had almost cost him his own. It wasn't the first time in his short life that he had encountered lies and broken promises, but it was the first time it had ever really hit home like this. He had never lied or broken a promise since then.

***END***

A/N: So I have been encountering a huge problem with writer's block so I made up this exercise in hopes of clearing out this problem in order to continue with my big story, Sands of Time. Grrrr...writer's block is a serious bitch...

-Vanillathunder215