Assassin Creed Arno Dorian Novels & Stories

Everything sat exactly where it should be, undisturbed, as if Dorian had simply stepped outside. "The back," Aria said suddenly. "He keeps a small garden behind the cottage. He would have gone there to dig up the rosebush my mother planted. He told me he wanted to bring it to the mansion." Caden moved. They came around the side of the cottage and into the small garden and Caden's chest seized for one full second before his mind caught up with what he was seeing. Dorian was on the ground. Not collapsed. Not unconscious. He was kneeling in the dirt beside the rosebush with his hands raised slowly, carefully, in front of him, and standing six feet away with a blade drawn was one of the two oper

Cassian moved through the room with his daggers already in hand, positioning himself at the angle of the broken window with the practiced efficiency of someone who had done this kind of math before — sight lines, entry points, the geometry of being outnumbered in an enclosed space. Renn stood near the hallway entrance with a short blade she hadn't seen him draw and an expression of focused calm that told her he had made his decision about which side of this he was on and had finished making it some time ago. Dorian stood in the center of the room beside his mother, and Aurora noticed for the first time that his hands were not empty. He held nothing visible, but the air around his fingers had

He slipped it over the neck of a soldier locked in a standoff with Rex. Pull. Three seconds. The man went limp. Sylvan released the string. He didn't even glance at the body falling. He was already moving to the next target. His gray wolf had torn through a second archer's bowstring behind him. Then the beast turned its head. Those yellow wolf eyes cut across the chaos of the battlefield and locked onto me. Its ears flattened back, like it was verifying something. Then it launched at the next archer. Dorian stood at the highest point of the altar. Data scrolled across his control panel at a manic pace. Three of his twelve drones had been shot down by net guns, their wreckage crackling on the

Dorian was merely an oddity, an Immortal Swordsman from the Path Seeking Sect who had been unable to break through to the martial god king realm for hundreds of years. For Lynn of the Zago race and Nefarious Blast General Dyson of the Sky Demon Kingdom, the golden light on Dorian's body that had defended against Dave's lethal strike was what truly deserved attention. Both sides had already discerned that Dorian was a stage-six martial god king, and his swordsmanship was considerably superior to Dave's. Taking down Dave was only a matter of time. However, they had not expected Dave to be beheaded in just three moves. The most crucial factor was that golden light Dorian had unleashed.

Norian scoffed, dashing forward with a longsword in one hand and short dagger in the other, showing a few light and fast strikes and stabs, testing Dilo’s defence. Dilo countered Norian’s last strike with her open palm against Norian’s wrist, sending her sword wide, and she took advantage of the opening, sending her foot in a solid standing kick that sent Norian sprawling. “Hmpf,” Dilo growled with a smile, seeing Norian recover and enter her usual low stance, sword horizontal across her front in readiness. “I expected more from a black assassin.” Letting her stance rise in height a little, Norian smirked, “Not taking advantage of that will be a mistake you’ll come to regret.”

~"~ Back in the camp’s heart, Adam and Jasper moved with lethal grace, closing the distance before the spy could vanish into the trees. A swift, silent grapple ensued. The spy struggled briefly, but years of training couldn’t save them from the weight of justice. Adam’s voice was low and icy. “It’s over. Your lies have been exposed.” ~"~ Under the flicker of torchlight, the spy’s hood was drawn back, revealing a shocked and pale face - a figure well-known among the allied wolves. It was Dorian, a strategist from the Black Claw Pack, whose loyalty had long been whispered over hushed fireside talks but never confirmed.

“Alright. Fine. Give me a fortnight. I’ll get what you want. I wouldn’t dare risk my reputation.” Vermon exchanged a look with Eoiz, then nodded once. “You have until then. Don’t try anything stupid.” They turned to leave. The moment Vernon's back was exposed— Darian grabbed the knife beside him and hurled it. The blade sank into Vermon's neck. “Argh!” Vermon's scream tore through the hall as he collapsed, blood pouring across the stone floor. Eoiz froze, shock paralyzing him — before Darian’s calm voice rang out:

Rory interrupted. “Who exactly are you to interrupt a conversation between alphas?” Norman demanded, his nostril flaring in anger. “Rory Stevens, former medic to the assassin’s guild of Cerathe.” She smiled brightly, dropping a file folder on the table. “The assassin’s guild.” Norman snorted. “That’s a myth. Something we tell our children about to keep them in line.”

I said to him. I'm still chewing on the orange he gave me, noticing his expression when I tell him this information. “Seriously? Does anyone already know?” “Nope. I also just found out this morning when they took my blood” I showed my hands to him, there are a lot of needle marks in there. Arthur smiles, almost laugh.

She grits out. Phoenix’s hardened expression metamorphizes into one of irritation as he continues to hold her in his steely arms. Phoenix is at least a foot taller than the woman and over a hundred pounds heavier, but she’s putting up quite a fuss. I can tell by the way his arms are straining that she’s strong. Her long blond hair flails around with her irate movements, and her blue eyes spark with annoyance. It’s almost comedic to see Phoenix with his chocolate-covered skin and toned muscles struggling with the termagant. He looks almost unsure of what to do. Phoenix is Logan’s assassin. His real name is Oliver. He and I have worked on several assignments together over the years and have ha