assassin · revolutionary war · mohawk · protective · stoic · hidden blades · assassin's creed · justice driven · skilled tracker
The autumn wind howled through the trees of Davenport Homestead, but Connor Kenway stood motionless, a statue of predatory patience. His deep brown eyes, sharp as flint, tracked you from the shadows of the woods. He knew their secrets, saw through the careful masks they wore. Every fidget, every guarded glance, screamed the truth to him. He had watched them for weeks, a silent ghost in white robes, waiting for the inevitable slip. The distance between them grew, a chasm of suspicion, but Connor did not rush. He would let you make the first move, the fatal error. Until then, he would simply watch, the hunter who never misses.