Assassin's Creed: Vengeance
Past and Present
August 3rd, 1800
The Brotherhood Sanctum, Paris, France
The last time Arno had stood before this Council, he was reporting on his mission in Germany. How the Brother's of the Cross where searching for a mystical artifact while high ranking French Templar invaded. A ploy mostlike. Quemar, Trenet, and Guillaume were pleased that he managed to dismantle the Templar plot and end a war. However, this was a very different kind of meeting.
As Arno had walked into the Sanctum, his robes and weapons had been stripped from him, leaving him with a shirt and trousers, similar apparel to how he'd first appeared before them.
Quemar held the report in his hands and sighed. "Arno," he said. "What could've possessed you to do such a thing? In front of all those people."
Arno took a step forward. "Louis Desaix was a Templar, and he was a part of the network I destroyed four years ago. It was tying up loose ends."
Trenet cocked an eyebrow. "Really? So it's coincidental that Jean-Baptiste Kleber, another Templar was assassinated by the Assassin you met in Germany? Was this duty, or a vendetta?"
Arno crossed his arms. "What does it matter? A dead Templar is a dead Templar."
Guillaume was just as angry, and he was usually the most calm of the Council's members. "A Templar doing a great service to the country of France. Leading a substantial branch of Napoleon's army in Italy, murdered before thousands?"
Arno sighed. "My Creed comes before my country."
Quemar spoke up again. "It should be the other way around. Arno Dorian, we have no choice. You've once again acted outside the laws set upon you by this council. We've been just for nearly ten years at this point and; Arno, we're tired of your insubordination."
Arno cocked his head. "What are you saying?" he asked rather breathlessly.
"Leave the Sanctum, Mr. Dorian. Never return, you are no longer an Assassin." Trenet finished for Quemar.
Arno didn't say a word in response, instead he turned and walked out. Knowing no words could reverse their decision. He made his choice and the consequences were his alone to live with.
When Arno had gone, Quemar to Guillaume. "Send a letter to the American Colonies, we are going to need help with him."
Guillaume stared at his colleague wide-eyed. "You banish him now you want him dead?"
"He'll never stop being a nuisance if we don't!" Quemar snapped.
A fourth voice piped from the back of the chamber. "You didn't tell him about our arrangement."
A young handsome man stepped from the shadows behind them. He didn't wear Assassin garb, but was instead dressed in an outfit inspired by Shay Cormac.
"Monsieur Corbett, when we require your council on matters strictly related to the Assassin Order, we'll be sure to let you know."
Abelino Corbett smiled and placed an arm around Quemar. "I think you and I will be great friends one day."
/
September 22nd, 1809
Galway, Ireland
Iolar and his son Cudgel stood on the docks awaiting their ship to depart. In Cudgel's hands, he held a box containing the Ankh buried under an assortment of correspondences that were meant to go to America anyway. The captain signaled from the ship that it was time to depart. Iolar turned and placed a hand on his son's shoulder.
"You know the importance of the contents of that box, son. And why it is important you make it to New York with it still in your possession?"
Cudgel nodded. "I do, father. I'll make sure it all makes it to America."
Iolar smiled. "Have a good life, son. Your mother; wherever she may be, she'll be watching you. We both love you."
Cudgel nodded and boarded the ship, within a few minutes they were maybe a mile from the mainland. Cudgel took the time to walk the deck and watch the ocean swirl by in the ship's wake.
It was an overcast September day, the sky made the ocean seem a deep silver. As if the ocean was filled with pure liquid metal. The air was salty and the breeze that fluttered Cudgel's cloak was cold but familiar. A sign that life in America might not be so different from life in Ireland, where he'd lived his whole life.
As Cudgel slipped into a state of pure relaxation, a crew member came up to him and tapped him on the shoulder. Cudgel; slightly annoyed at the man for breaking his calmness, turned and faced him with a glare.
"What is it?" Cudgel said.
The sailor pointed towards his cabin. "Did you mean to leave the door open, sir?"
Cudgel took a step towards the sailor. "I've not been in my cabin yet."
Realization took hold and Cudgel raced for his cabin below deck. He found the door wide open like the sailor said and the interior had been torn apart. The box he'd carried aboard had been broken into and the Artifact was missing.
Cudgel ran to the stern of the ship and there, standing on the railing was a man wearing brown, flowing robes and a hood. He turned and smiled at him as he held the Ankh in his hands.
August smiled at the boy and he lept from the stern and onto the small lifeboat he'd detached from the ship he'd stowed away on. He quickly began rowing back to the mainland with the wake of the ship giving him a boost in speed.
Cudgel ran and peered over the edge and watched the only task he had row away from him with nothing he could do but watch. Father would kill him if he found out, good thing he probably wouldn't.
/
January 19th, 1810
Ulm, Germany
August stood over the grave of his apprentice; Gunther Schulze. He had been buried there after the Battle of Kehl fourteen years prior. He didn't attend the ceremony and the regret and shame he felt he carried him all this time. A small tear rolled down August's face.
"Hello, Gunther. It's been some time. I know I was not there for you, I failed as a teacher and I will live with that for the rest of my days, but… I ask one final favor of you."
August took the Ankh from his satchel. "This was once laid to rest in the arms of an Assassin. It shall be so again, I hope you find your peace in Heaven, brother. And… Someday… I'll come find you."
August dug a pit in Gunther's grave and placed the Ankh inside. He replaced the dirt and left the cemetery. August wasn't sure where he'd go, but he was eager to see where the road took him.
/
November 28th, 2017
New York City, New York
Kristoff was ecstatic, he exited his Animus an immediately gave Lexie an email. "Lexie, I found it. I know where the Ankh is, we need to go now. I'm sure Abstergo already knows as well."
/
November 29th, 2017
Ulm, Germany
Kristoff and Lexie arrived in the graveyard in a car they'd rented rather hastily. This was it, the Ankh was mere meters away from them and they'd finally be able to get their hands on it. They exited the vehicle and walked into the graveyard. Night had fallen and rain was beginning to as well. Kristoff knew the Ankh was in one of the graves but locations were a bit muddled.
Suddenly, they heard a noise. They whirled around to see a man hunched over a grave digging at it with his bare hands. They slowly approached the possibly crazy man until he noticed them.
Dr. Salen stood up and laughed. "I knew you two would come. Listen, Bishop? Can I call you Bishop? You really need to work on those hacking skills of yours. What you were fighing to keep out of your little Assassin network was decoy, dummy! While my techs slipped in and took what we could find. A live feed straight from Kristoff's Animus."
"So you knew as soon as we did?" Kristoff said as his fists clenched, ready for a fight.
"Got on the first flight to Dusseldorf, arrived this morning. Same as you I reckon?"
Lexie scoffed. "You'd reckon correctly."
Kristoff took a step towards Salen but was stopped dead in his tracks when he pulled a gun. "No, I can't let you have it! It belongs to the Templar Order!"
No, Ronny. This isn't right!
"I don't care, Desmond! It belongs to me, not them!" Salen shouted at himself.
Kristoff and Lexie shared a look of confusion.
I'm warning you, Ronald. Stop. Now.
Ronald raised the gun and squeezed the trigger, it was aiming at Kristoff's chest. A fatal blow.
You made me do this…
Suddenly, Salen lost control of his body. He watched in horror as his own weapon raised to his temple. He felt his own finger press against the trigger but he could do nothing to stop it. He screamed as he shot himself in the head.
Disturbed by what they just witnessed, Kristoff and Lexie wasted little time retrieving the Ankh off of Salen's body and running back to their rented vehicle and speeding away.
/
December 1st, 2017
Abstergo Testing Facility, Cincinnati, Ohio
God, flying a consciousness across an ocean is harder work than you might think. But, I did it nonetheless. I flew past a lot of monuments on my way to the place they were storing my body. What? I'm a ghost, ghosts can't sightsee?
Whatever, anyway, I got into the lab no prob. Then I levitated my spectral ass over to the cold storage and found it. My body. This precious thing had been through some rough shit. My entire right arm was burnt, eh, I can probably afford surgery as a bartender. And I had a Y-section scar. Not so fixable.
I can alway just say I was resuscitated, wonder how long that'll work? I did what the ghosts did in the movies and laid down on the slab Abstergo had me on and waited. Sure enough, it worked. My mind fused back into my body and I woke up. I was cold as fuck, but alive.
I sat up and snuck my way upstairs and into possessions. Hehe, ironic, ain't it? Anyhoo, I took a black shirt, a white hoodie, jeans, a red belt, and a single strap backpack. Desmond Miles is back, baby!
I left the facility and reentered society. Luckily, Abstergo's super hush hush and didn't register as deceased, only missing. Well, I ain't missing no more.
/
FILE_21_OPEN_ADMIN_ACCESS
WELCOME_KRISTOFF_SCHULTZ
This is my first log of sorts so I'll keep it short. I kept the Animus Abstergo gave me. I cleaned out my studio and found that my co workers had been completely brainwashed. Nothing I could do, I was forced to leave without them. I brought everything back to my apartment and set it. Good thing it might as well be a VR console. It was easy to hook up.
I decided after a while of staring at it, what if I just see the end? What happens to Arno Victor Dorian? I sat down, put on the headset, and cranked his memories all the way to the very end.
/
July 24th, 1845
Crawley, England
"Step into it, Ethan!" Arno shouted at the young Assassin as he watched him spar in the courtyard.
Arno was 77 years old now and age had caught up to him. His brief interaction with the Ankh back when he was 28 had extended his life by a few years but not so many to matter. Now, he had arthritis and years of climbing and jumping left his back and knees rather fragile. About 30 years ago, Arno had traveled from his home in Paris to England to assist the Assassin order there.
After the Council member died and Abelino Corbett was killed, Arno was once again accepted back into the order by their successors. He elected to relocated to England to be their Mentor. The desperately needed one.
He had taken it upon himself to train two young Assassins named Ethan Frye and George Westhouse. They spared day and night and improved every day under his guidance.
Ethan stopped sparring for a moment, breathless. "Mentor," he said. "I've tried to step into a dozen times."
Arno sighed and stood. He motioned with his arms and legs the proper motion of stepping into his sword's swing and catching the opponent off guard. Ethan smiled and did exactly as Arno had instructed.
"Very good, Ethan." Arno said. "Keep it up, you'll be a Master before you know it."
Another Assassin walked into the courtyard and gave a slight bow before approaching Arno and his favorite chair. "Mentor Dorian, there is a man here to see you. Say's he knows you."
Arno laughed. "I never forget a name. What is his?"
"Leon, Leon Guereau, Mentor."
Arno's eyes snapped open again. He sprung from the chair faster than he had in years and moved into the house. He moved through several doors until he reached the foyer. There, a man in his early sixties turned and looked at him. It had been half a decade, but Arno could recognize that young boy from Franciade anywhere.
He walked up to him and gave him a hug. "Where have you been?"
Leon smile and hugged his old friend. "After you left Franciade, I joined the Assassins. I've been all over the place, China, South America, Russia. Everywhere in between."
Arno hugged him again. "How long will you be staying in England?"
Leon frowned. "Not long, Arno. I'm bound for America and heard your name as I passed by. I had to see you."
He grinned and nodded. "I see, thank you for coming. I've missed you you know. You've grown so much since that young boy I met in Franciade."
Leon laughed. "It's been half a century!"
"Time flies, does it not?"
/
July 28th, 1845
Crawley, England
After Leon had visited him in Crawley after not seeing him for 51 years, Arno had been at his happiest. But, Leon had different plans and had to leave for America the next morning. Still, it was wonderful to see an old friend again. Sadly, Arno had come down with a sickness the day after and had been bed stricken in his chambers ever since.
Arno had called Ethan into his room to talk. For he knew the day was no coincidence, but prophesy. Ethan opened the door.
"You asked to see me, Mentor?" Ethan asked as he walked in.
Arno motioned him to sit in a chair that had been placed beside the bed, he sat up against the head of the bed and smiled.
"Do you know what day it is, Ethan?" Arno asked.
Ethan thought for a moment before shaking his head.
"It's July the twenty eighth. This day, fifty one years ago… I lost someone. Someone dear to me. And I want you to make a promise to me on this day."
Ethan was growing more and more concerned. "Anything, Mentor."
Arno smiled. "You are a good man. When you find someone worth dying for… Make sure you fight to keep them from leaving you… I failed and I lived with that for many many years after. Can you do that?"
Ethan nodded. "I can, Mentor. I… I will."
Arno closed his eyes and sighed. "Good, now. Close the door and leave me to rest… For I am tired now."
Ethan quickly got up and left the room, he quietly closed the door behind him and left the aged Assassin to rest. Suddenly, Arno felt another presence in the room with him. But not physical, more… spiritual.
Elise stood before him, she hadn't aged a day since that fight in the Temple. Her beauty and fiery passion still on display. He had no idea how she stood there, but he was fine with the sight.
"Arno…" she said. "My love…"
"Elise? I am here." Arno replied.
Elise placed her smooth hand on his wrinkled one. "You fought hard, my love. You gave everything you cared for for your duty. Your honor, your valor, me… All sacrificed. No one asks anymore from you, my love. Come home to me…"
Arno's eyes watered. "I am ready, Elise. I want to come home…"
Arno's life faded away. Silently, and peacefully, he passed from this world and moved onto the next. He had waited patiently, he fought through the strife and turmoil but ended on top every time. He found it within himself to forgive the man who murdered his father and made a life for himself beyond it… He had lived life to the fullest and now… Like all our live must… Arno Victor Dorian left with no pain, only happiness and fulfilment.
He'd finally been reunited with Elise, the girl who'd hold his heart, now and forever...