Gabe didn't wanna hurt Andrea but he had no choice at the moment so he put on his mask and took out his flame thrower launching a stream of fire scalding Andrea, a tear slipped from the poor pyros eye has he watched but he just couldn't he turned off the gun and made a run for it, for a pyro in heavy gear he is suprisingly fast
!!! BY POSTING IN THIS THREAD, YOU AGREE THAT THE NEXT USER WILL HAVE FULL FREEDOM OF DAMAGING OR HURTING YOUR OC !!!
The rules of this thread are very simple! It carries the rules of my previous threads!
- Unless 24 hours have passed, you can only post every after 3 posts.
- Please have at least 3 sentences in your reply.
- Please be literate and legible with your replies.
- Claim a post when you have a rad idea for a reply.
- Hey, this may be potentially gory, so censor the gore if it ever pops out. Writing extreme sexual detail is forbidden.
- If you want, you can write a few sentences on how your OC makes the move to defeat the next OC!
- Rules can be changed anytime. If you do not want how this thread is currently running, please contact me at my main, @/wanco-alien!
- DISCLAIMER THAT I DO NOT SEXUALIZE PAIN
- Have fun!
The first user starts!
Steve yips as flames come hurtling towards them, causing them to frantically rip apart the fabric of space in front of them, letting the fire shoot into some random part of the universe instead of Steve's face. Despite that, they can feel the lingering heat, and he hurriedly shuts the rip as soon as the embers fade.
"-.-- --- ..- / ..-. ..- -.-. -.- .. -. --. / .- .. .-. .... . .- -.. -.-.-- / .-- .... .- - / .. ... / .-- .-. --- -. --. / .-- .. - .... / -.-- --- ..- ..--.." Did. Did this person just start angrily beeping at Gabe? Apparently so. Steve shakes his fist, then proceeds to rip the space near the ground, then creates yet another rip beside themselves. Leaping through it, Steve ends up behind Gabe and shoves him unceremoniously into the hole they've ripped through spacetime. Before he can get to his senses or climb out, they shut the hole, leaving him stranded in some far-off place.
"-.-- --- ..- .----. .-. . / - --- - .- .-.. .-.. -.-- / .--. ... -.-- -.-. .... --- -.-.--" With a huff, Steve crosses his arms and glances around at the now empty, if somewhat charred field. Great.
Ohohoho.... Needless to say, they're very happy someone can understand them, even if it's Fitzgerald.
".-- .- .. - -.-.--" Waving their hands in the air frantically, she bounces up and down and then waves at Fitzgerald to step away. Even should he refuse, she goes to push him out of the way anyway, stretching space back into its proper shape and closing up the gash. "-.-- --- ..- / -.-. .- -. / ..- -. -.. . .-. ... - .- -. -.. / -- . ..--.. ..--.. ..--.."
Practically gushing, she pushes her sunglasses up in order to stare at him with wide, adoring eyes. "- .... .- - .----. ... / ..-. ..- -.-. -.- .. -. --. / - ..- -... ..- .-.. .- .-. --..-- / -.. ..- -.. . -.-.-- / . ...- . .-. -.-- --- -. . / - .... .. -. -.- ... / .. .----. -- / - .... .-. . .- - . -. .. -. --. / - .... . -- --..-- / -. .- .... --..-- / .. .----. -- / .--- ..- ... - / --. .-. --- --- ...- .. -. -.-.-- / .-- . .-.. .-.. --..-- / -.-- --- ..- .----. .-. . / .-- .. --. --. .. -. / --- ..- - / .-. .. --. .... - / -. --- .-- --..-- / -... ..- - / .. - .----. ... / .--- ..- ... - / ... .-.. .- -. --. -.-.-- / -.-- --- ..- .----. .-. . / -... . .. -. --. / .- / - --- - .- .-.. / --. --- --- -... . .-. .-.-.-"
Squealing with delight, Sarah slides back in order to give him space, throwing her arms up high in the air. "-.. ..- -.. . --..-- / ... - --- .--. / .... .- ...- .. -. / .- / -.-. --- .-- / .- -. -.. / - . .-.. .-.. / -- . / -.-- --- ..- .-. / -. .- -- . -.-.-- / .-. .. --. .... - / -. --- .-- / .. .----. -- / ... .- .-. .- .... -.-.-- / - .... .. ... / .. ... / .-.. .. -.- . --..-- / - --- - .- .-.. .-.. -.-- / .-- --- .-. - .... / - .... . / ..- ... . / --- ..-. / .- / --. -. .- .-. .-.. -.-- .-.-.- / -. . --- --..-- / .. / .... .- ...- . / - --- / - . .- -.-. .... / -.-- --- ..- / .-- .... .- - / .- .-.. .-.. / - .... .. ... / -- . .- -. ... .-.-.- / - .... . -.-- .----. .-. . / -. --- - / - .... .-. . .- - ... --..-- / -- -.-- / -.. ..- -.. . -.-.--"
With his brows shot up into the sky, Fitzgerald took a step back as he hissed at the extral, "Hey! Just what the fuck do you think you're doing!? I mean!" He cut himself off with a sputter as he peered over at the seemingly bottomless pit that had just opened up in the otherwise pristine ground, a few feet away from him. Uh oh.
Just wrong one step, and he'd be falling... Somewhere. He didn't know where it'd lead him - and, frankly, he didn't want to know... Did he?
So, after sucking in a breath, Fitzgerald raised his hands up into the air as he continued to protest defensively, "You shouldn't be fucking threatening me like that, you know! You don't even come from around here, and-" The youth clenched his hands into fists while glancing around. It wasn't like he was being watched by anyone except his opponent, as well as any animal that had the misfortune to be passing through at this moment, but... Like a cockerel with his feathers puffed out, he then hissed, "- That could bite you in the ass later on! You do realize that I'm one of the most prestigious individuals in this entire damn region? If you mess with me, you'll end up messing with my family, and that's when your ass will really get kicked!"
And yet he kept his feet planted into the ground. Sure, it left him vulnerable into falling sooooooomewhere if a pit happened to suddenly form right underneath his feet- Not like that would happen... Right? Right? Right!?
"As a result, you really need to mind your own business and not be such a fucking hassle..." Fitzgerald hissed with a furrowed brow before peering back over his shoulder and at the infinite pit. His stomach churned just looking over the periphery, causing him to whip his head back over to them just moments later. If he was really trying to be tough, he was absolutely fucking failing. "I don't even know what you're talking about when you said I was 'bodacious,' or that this entire thing is 'gnarly,' but..." He scoffed and puffed himself out further-
Wait... This entire conflict was centered around... Slang!? Fitzgerald... Honey...
"... Don't mention those words again," the youth scoffed while crossing his arms, "and maybe I'll stop acting so bitchy. I don't know. We'll see - but either way, don't make this worse than it already is. Okay?" He was going to regret that if he ever figured out what they actually meant. What a dumbass.
@ NP: it's.... pretty easy to nerf Fitzgerald considering that he's essentially all bark and no bite dgftbtgthgtfdhb- he's rather weak physically, and his only Pokemon is at a relatively low level, so.... go hog wild if you want your character to absolutely fucking nerf him.
alternatively, if you want to go for a nonviolent route, then feel free to opt for fashion contests, faceoffs pertaining to his research (such as who can collect the most feathers), and so forth!! as with the more traditional route, you're welcome to get creative if you want!!
maybe I'll also do a follow-up for NP if I have the time??
The spy effortlessly avoided Fitzgeralds attacks turning invisible here and there until wack a knife finally impailed the spy who fell unconscious. Dead. Suddenly Fitzgerald carried the body and dumped it off the battlefield " hey! " that was Fitzgeralds friend calling * I don't know if he has a friend but for plot sake he does * " that was a sick battle!"
His friend walked up to him and patted his back " you know I wonder if that spy is still alive somehow " he chuckled, Suddenly Fitzgerald felt a sharp pain, a knife sticking out of his abdomin. Vladimir was disguised has his friend his crisp French accent sending a chill down his spine
" one way to find out "
Whyme123
Roswell lightly rolled his kram between his fingers. His footsteps were light. Slipping in the mud of the cobblestone street, as he circled the spy. The old crook’s lone eye stared at Vladimir as he stepped away from the other’s butterfly-knife. It rained.
“Oi’ve ‘eard about yer,” Roswell said. His breath was hazy from the faint effort.
“Yer some koind of yoke-hero roi? A street smart lad,” he said. Before quickly moving his feet and slamming his kram against the other’s weapon. CLING. As their blades collided. Roswell set a step closer and couldn’t help but smile.
“Yer still quite on yer toes for a wee-fellow aren’t yer,” he said. Before sliding his blade away from the butterfly-knife. The rain had soaked him to the bone. His mustache drooped and his hair stuck to his forehead.
Roswell danced a few paces back then spat on the ground. He rubbed his mouth clean.
“But... Mebbe yer should stop tryin’ yer luck in me streets,” the old thief taunted. “ ‘nd crawl back to dat sewer-smelin’ place yer came from.”
Roswell laughed and eyed the other. “Dis me city,” he bragged. Going as far as to puff up his chest as some kind of rooster. A drowned one.
“Now go,” he said. As he slowly sheeted his kram and let his hand linger over the handle of his flint-lock revolver. “Before thin’ get really dicey,” he said. Grinning. Roswell bared his teeth like a snarling animal, showing that he missed a molar in the far back.
It was all a show though. Roswell’s gun was empty, the bullet-chambers had been empty for years. Gunpowder could dysfunctional in this pouring rain. Still. Roswell’s bluff was genuinely believable as he quickly swapped his kram for his revolver. Using its barrel to gesture at the spy.
“Yer ‘eard me. Go.”
kafkaesque
“Alroi focus on me,” Roswell instructed. He knotted his brow into a frown as he eyed Fitzgerald. The grit on the basement floor squeaked underneath his foot.
“It’s no science kid. Just a wee knoive,” he said. Giving Fitzgerald a worried look.
“If yer want to break out of dis slaughterhouse without Nathaniel snappin’ yer neck yer at least need to give that dagger a swing,” he spoke in a hushed voice. Still his voice treacherously bounced back from the meat-cellar’s walls. The damp didn’t help either. It settled itself in Roswell’s lungs, making his voice hazier and louder than ever.
“Atta boy,” he said. Encouraging Fitzgerald. “Just swing dat ding at me. Let de blood get in yer fingers, yer hand,’ he instructed.
Roswell then carefully took the aristocrats hand’s in his own and squeezed them tighter around the blade's ivory handle. “Try at least to hóld de weapon yer wielding,” he hissed.
“Now if yer see Nathaniel just pretend he’s a big hay bale,” Roswell said. He took a step back. “One with big fangs," he used his fingers to imitate Nathaniel's tusk."- And a deadly stare. Oh muscles as big as steam train cables,” he said. Making a dismissive flicker with his hand. “Der is hardly any difference between dat Fish and a hay bale. Really,” he mused.
“Just stay behind me, oi’m sure oi get yer out of dis dump without any of dose Zeewolven noticin’ us. Oi’m a rouge after all,” he rattled on. “Now keep quiet. Keep low. Oh. Hold dat blade.”
Roswell moved back towards the hench he’d used to enter the cellar. He climbed the wooden ladder and carefully peeked his head through the hole. The slaughterhouse seemed to be empty. Only Roswell’s oil-lamp that he’d placed next to the hatch was their only source of light. But that meant nothing. Nathaniel didn’t need light to be able to see in the dark. Roswell shivered. Then silently crept out of the hatch. Turned around and held his hand out to Fitzgerald. Moving his fingers impatiently.
“Come on lad, we don’t ‘ave all day,’ he whispered.
SFSDFLJK I LOVED IT
Wraith afterwards though
Void be dammed. Roswell pinched his nose as he lifted up his head. “Kid yer smell loike yer just came crawlin’ out of a sewer,” the old man complained. “Dat rain odor ain’t servin’ yer well,” he continued to nag and pester.
“Yer need to take a bath.”
6 words that changed everything. 6 simple words that brought out the worst of both of them. Wraith even dared to oppose him! The shifter set down, on the ground, in the middle of his living room. His living room! Where you’re supposed to, you know, live.
Roswell breathed out. Through his teeth, making an audible whistle. “Kid, yer gonna give me a ‘eartattack with dat smell!” he tried. Plucking at the Shifther’s every side with his words. “Do yer want me to die? Yer gran’ ol man?”
Authority failed, so did guilt-tripping. Roswell pinched his nose again. Rubbed his temples. “Yer even got blud on me necktie even though Oi asked yer not to,” he whined.
“Foine!” Roswell said. Throwing his hands in the air. “Foine!” he repeated.
“Don't think yer won,” he said. As he left the Shifter alone in the living room. The old thief walked to his washing room and lit the firepit underneath his bathtub. He opened the taps. Filled the tub with herbs. Herbs and soap. Roswell killed the flame as the water started to boil. He stared at his own reflection with a frown.. ‘Ow am I ever gonna get dat kid into ‘ere, he thought to himself.
Slowly his eye fell on his perfume rack. The cinnamon flask in particular…..
Roswell returned. ‘Yer tub is ready. De water is still warm, so Oi’d go now if Oi were yer,” the thief said. He raised his brows as the other shifted. Sure, he’d seen Wraith doing that numerous times, but he still wasn’t used to it. Besides. Friendly relationship or not, a big cat with claws that can swipe your head straight from your torso still was intimidating. He clenched his jaw. Then straightened his back, fighting back his flightiness.
“Yer ‘eard me youn’ man. Don’t let me use me secret weapon…” Wraith had heard him, but still didn’t listen. (Cats am I right.) They glared at each other for a long time and it was Roswell who broke the eye contact first. He shrugged.
“Foine,” he said dismissively. Almost hinting that he’d given up, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. “ ‘ave it yer way,” he said. Roswell’s eye shot back at the huge panther in his house and… Revealed the small perfume flask in his inner pocket.
“Then oi’ll rub de rain from behind yer ears with dis lil’ potion. Me favorite,” he said. Unable to bite down his smile. That grew in an almost animalistic grin. Baring all his teeth. That seemed to work!
Wraith got up and bolted. Ha! Serves him right! But karma is a bitch and Wraith’s tail smashed against his lower legs.
“Void!” he cried out. Almost dropping the cinnamon-parfume.
“Oh oi’ll get yer back for dat,” he said. Laughing. “Look at yer,” he said. Pointing at the panther that hardly fitted in his small one person-apartment bathtub. “Oi can finally braid yer fur now.”
Whyme123 - not to be rude, but can you please remove your post? the thread rules explicitly state that you need to wait until three people have posted after you, or 24 hours have passed, before you post again - and you’re replying to me even though I’m only the second person after your other reply + it’s been less than a day since my post. again, I hope this isn’t rude, but I have to point it out since it clearly violates thread rules + the OP is inactive/gone from TH afaik. thanks in advance!! ^^”
nvm about the post removal thing since @fizzelston is opting for double duty, but please do keep rules regarding claim frequency in mind next time!! :"000
fizzelston - bless you for doing double duty.... I'll be sure to read your reply if my midterm paper doesn't nerf me sfdrvfgsdrfdg- :"D
(@ NP: skip me!! please reply to fizz instead!!)
(More like a fight with a certain someone's stubbornness, hope it's okay, I can always change it if not xD)
This all started when Roswell insisted that the shifter should take a bath and due to Wraith being in a particular foul mood that day, mainly due to a poor nights sleep and several flashbacks throughout the day, he was not playing ball. The shifter was currently sitting on the floor, arms crossed and scowling at the older man and refusing to move, his ears twitched every time Roswell spoke, a low growl rumbling from his throat. When the thief left the room, Wraith was pretty sure that he had won, however the sound of water running soon prove that thought wrong.
Wraith didn't understand why he needed a bath, he smelt fine......at least to him he did. Okay maybe he got some blood on him during their last mission and maybe he got into a fight and was knocked into several bins in an ally; but it had rained, surely that took care of it. As expected Roswell came back into the room telling him that the bath was ready, he just had to get in it. With an eyebrow twitching in annoyance, Wraith transformed into his panther form and started growling and hissing at the other man whilst lying down on the floor; determined to not have a bath. Sure, the shifter didn't necessarily mind water and was a pretty strong swimmer, but a both was totally different, and totally unnecessary by his standards.
The shifter would never hurt Roswell, but he wasn't above showing the man when he was unhappy about a situation. This battle of wills went back and forth for a while.....until Roswell brought out the cinnamon perfume from before, that got the big cat to bolt towards the bathroom, smacking Roswell across the leg with his tail with a loud WACK! as he did so, clearly not wanting to undergo that experience again. Growling quietly the large black cat sat in the bath, giving Roswell quite the stink eye as he did so. So now the thief had a very pouty panther sitting in the tub.
(Literally Wraith arguing in his panther form. xD)
-----------------------------
Follow Up:
The shifter wasn't sure why he had agreed to this, most likely because he had nothing to do and was completely sleep deprived, so rational thought went out the window. Still he found it useful to practice his dodging abilities, even though he did flinch at the loud booms and bright flashes of light. It was going well, until one particular got a bit to close to Wraith, the scarred man catching the outer boarder of the explosion and skidding a fair way back. He was thankful that his coat was fire resistant as he laid on the ground trying to get his bearings.
*BOOM* the bomb separated the explosives expert from the panther shifter " aye!! Thanks for coming out here to help me practice!" The human sized rat said throwing bombs has wraith avoided each explosion until * boom, crack!* one hit wraith * oh crikey!! Someone call a medic!! "
Mason stared at his oppenent with a puzzled look. "I'm supposed to fight THIS? What even is it? An animal, a robot, an alien?" He cracked his knuckles and stood up a little taller "Y'know what. Doesn't matter. I got this, yeah, I got this. Come at me!" When Mason threw the first punch he recoiled and hissed as his sparks flew from his hand "Dammit! That was unfair! Absolutely no one told me we could bring weapons... or that you are a weapon? I am not fighting a battle I can't win... so how's about we call it a truce?" Mason extended out his hand to Viskir, who promptly shook it, but he quickly realized his stupidity as he held back tears from the immense pains of his now seared fur.
Though Walker was more than okay with the opportunity to drink some tea, she couldn't help but glower at the company she was in. Out of all the individuals that she had to be stuck with... It had to be a canine with a passion for rock climbing. Just the latter would've been enough to make the aristocrat - so used to relatively flat ground - uneasy, but... Well... There was the fact that she was with a canine.
If her son was the one with him, he'd have a very different reaction, but... Alas... She had to take out her bubbling resentment on the straw, as her teeth dug into the plastic and she stared up at the other with what seemed like... An increasing sense of dread? Oh no.
"You should have told me that you were going to challenge me to this sort of endeavor early on," griped the middle-aged woman while carefully holding the can close to her self, "If I were notified of it previously, then I would have prepared myself more effectively..." Said the one who was supposed to dress properly for the occasion, even if the dress admittedly was starting to gain more dirt and footprint impressions on its skirt than she would've wanted. Walker let out a sharp huff and bit down harder into her straw while carefully peering over at the other.
If it weren't for that pesky can of iced tea, it would've been a lot worse. A lot, lot worse - in fact. But at the same time, Walker couldn't climb when she was holding a can. It showed quite miserably as she continued to lounger on the rocky overhang, presumably because that was what she thought she deserved after all of that unnecessary physical exertion.
Ah... First-world entitlement...
She took another sip of tea before placing the half-finished can on the ground and grunting, "... Ah well. I suppose that it serves me right for being so... Well... Reckless about the whole thing..." She noticeably kept her gaze averted from the edge of the overhang, instead choosing to look up at the wall that she still had to climb. Stifling a gulp, Walker then held her hands up, but that only served to deepen her frown; the lotion that she had applied onto their palms earlier had only eroded due to the climbing, and... Well...
"Do you have any gloves, by the way?" the aristocrat then asked the collie with a raised brow... Not that she expected much in the first place. She must've seemed so small by this point! Walker sucked in a breath and took a step back. "I could use them if I need to climb further. I am finished resting, but..." She almost wanted to utter that she was determined to defeat the canine, no matter what, for the sake of her own ego - though this sounded more and more ridiculous in the moment. "... I am still exhausted, if that makes sense. Perhaps it can get more climactic another day, but not now. Least of all now."
@ NP: Walker is usually a pacifist, though she's quick to fight back or otherwise get defensive if she feels that she's being threatened!! there's no way in hell that she'd do the fighting herself though; that's what her Pokemon team is for rfdvfbvrv.
if you want to opt for a nonviolent route, then she's surprisingly adept at gardening (though she's rather self-conscious about it due to WHY that's the case). verbal fights are also perfectly okay with me!! as usual, feel free to get creative with your response; just beat the shit out of her because it's what she deserves.
I'll also try my best to do a follow-up for NP. :3c
Ahahaha, That took much longer than I thought, I'm more used to writing action sequences but wanted to try something a little less actiony and add more feeling and dialogue. I hope you enjoy! (let me know if something doesn't fit as far as character goes, I tried my best, but I can always change it if needed!^^
Spoiled for length and some anger issues (not sure if needed but I'm putting it out there)
Perhaps she was just getting riled up over nothing, but the woman sitting across from her has done nothing but get on her nerves and stubbornly stay there. It didn't help that Illanya didn't particularly enjoy being in a public place, at least not anymore. While she wasn't wearing her helm, she'd taken care to at least cover her face, even if the restaurant they were meeting in empty...
Illanya lets out a slow breath, her face not really betraying her frustration. It wouldn't with all that had happened in the past few months. Still, it didn't stop what little magic she wasn't focused on containing to at least spark slight, small embers fluttering to the floor. Some off-hand remark had been made, regarding the incident that started this whole mess, one that sparked the frustration from before into anger. She stands abruptly, shoving off hard enough from the table enough to make the wood shudder.
"How dare you!" Illanya takes long strides towards Walker stopping about a foot or so away from the other woman, rage clearly playing across her features. She towers over the older woman, jabbing a finger towards the woman's chest. "Are you saying I should've just ignored what was happening back then? Just leave that boy to die? Leave him to the same fate that I now suffer?"
Illanya paces angrily, armored boots clunking as she walks back and forth, her voice getting nearly to a full shout. The fact that Walker had at least shared with her some of her own past with Illanya, made the paladin angrier.
She stops and towers over the other woman, slamming her hand on the table.
"Tell me, is that what you've done in regards to your son's disappearance?! Mind your own business? I honestly can't tell! In our entire conversation, you have had yet to tell me what you've done to find your son! How could you say such a thing about the things I've done when I can't tell if you've even made an effort to fix your situation!" The words curdle on her tongue, and she feels instant regret as soon as they leave her mouth. It's a low blow, to bring up something so sensitive to Walker. She really has no idea what Walker might've done to try and find her son, and it was unfair of her to assume Walker had done nothing to find her son.
With a majority of the fight and anger flickering out of Illanya's system changing to shame, she stumbles back slightly. She plops heavily into her discarded chair, burning her face in her hands.
"Ah, Gods... I'm sorry. That's was wrong of me to say. I just get... pretty heated about what happened." Illanya gives the woman across from her a sheepish look, before looking back down at her gloved hands in contemplation. She's not certain where to take the conversation from here, but she knows that at least some small part of her feels better sharing these feelings with someone.
Even if she had been a bit of a jerk about it.
dragoninawagon Follow up! Prepare for the ANGST TRAIN CHOO CHOO! Spoilered for gore and (kinda?) character death! MWAHAHA! (unfortunately for her being undead has perks she wishes it didn't have. So don't worry)
Everything was red. The only thing she can hear is the sound of roaring in her ears. A familiar sensation whenever the Demon who made her this way commandeered her undead body for its own personal purposes. She saw the white-haired young man from within her own trapped mind and had hoped that he'd be smart enough to at least run away.
She hadn't been expecting this young man to send the glaive straight through the breastplate and through her back. Red glowing eyes widen slightly in shock, clearly having not expected this sort of outcome. It seems like the shock to her body had at least shaken the control of the demon from the former paladin's body. She gasps as the glaive is torn from her chest, leaning forward. While she technically felt no pain, she could tell that her undead body has broken beyond repair, and would either require her to make her way to a necromancer for the fix, or collapse and wait for the Demon's magic to revive her. She never escaped his control so easily, by dying. Such was this cursed existence of hers.
At the sound of the young man's voice, she looks up, surprise playing across her face. With weakening hands she unhooks the helm on her head, pulling it off to reveal her face, so she can see him better. The look of guilt in his eyes is unexpected, something Illanya was wholly unused to. Usually, she got a look of indifference or disgust. A feeling of sorrow flashes through her and she lowers her head slightly. She may have been the one about to kill him, but she didn't wish for him to be distressed, especially over his enemy.
"Y-you did what you had to..." She rasps, the wound in her chest making it difficult to speak. "I was your enemy and you dispatched me... I wish I had been in control... otherwise, this wouldn't have happened..." Illanya takes a staggering step closer to Monroe, before stopping, and sliding to her knees.
"But, I am glad you stopped me... Perhaps, I can get a little rest this time around." Her voice comes out in pants, her white eyes dimming. Once the last word leaves her mouth, she collapses, dead.
"Shit!" Brown barked as she leapt a step back and dodged the gunfire from the squib's blaster. Or... Well... Tried to dodge, as the middle-aged woman could smell the faintest hint of singed silk coming from a part of her sleeve, but... That could be addressed later, really! "You are much tougher than you seem!" she nonetheless yipped with too much enthusiasm, as she flashed the blade of her dagger at the bounty hunter and gave her a large, toothy grin.
"At least for a young folk," the aristocrat was quick to add with a nod, "you certainly know what you are doing, but..." And that was where the impression of a camaraderie ended. Brown's eyes narrowed as she focused her gaze on the blaster and snarled, "... For fuck's sake, lower the gun. You know how the folks around here like to frame unfair circumstances. 'Bringing a gun to a knife fight.' I am surprised that all of those adaptation exercises have been for naught, but maybe I shouldn't be surprised either! I should have been wary as soon as that fucking firearm started shooting light instead of fucking bullets. Coward."
And then Brown calmly turned her back to the other.
Holding her hands up in the air, she mused aloud with an exaggerated sigh, "But you know what? You probably had me cornered for a second. Which is funny, you know..." A conniving sneer became all too apparent on Brown's expression as she turned to face the other party. "... I am supposed to be a free spirit," sniffed the aristocrat, "Someone who does not give a damn... You might be familiar with such a concept, actually." Oh no. Brown started to chuckle coolly as she waved one hand, then turned her body so that she now completely faced the squib she was fighting.
"We are not as different as you might think," she sniffed while casually waving around her dagger (in a fashion that almost seemed menacing), "We operate however we wish, without regard for the law. Shit, I'm not even sure why you would want to fight me, but..." She shook her head as her chuckling intensified, prompting her to bare her usual set of teeth... Again. Great. So much for trying to be friendly, at least in the conventional sense!
"Hey!" Brown barked as she stared at her opponent's blaster... Once more. Her voice had an undeniably wary edge to it as she sniffed, "Maybe someone hired you to track me down. Get to know the Wolf up close and personal, as some might say..." She rolled her eyes, however, as if this was all just fun and games to her. To some degree, it really was! Brown planted her free hand against her hip, with her other still tightly gripping the dagger, as she hummed and fluttered her lashes. "They could've just told me - you know. I might just beat the shit out of them out of sheer spite, because they probably need to learn a lesson for fucking me over like this." Uhhh... Maybe don't?
Brown then took a step towards the squib as she hissed, "I will not take 'no' for an answer, by the way. Who the hell hired you to stun - or capture me, for that matter - and where are they?" She slowly moved the tip of the blade closer, though her position remained static for the most part. "Trust me," the aristocrat snarled, "This is a question you would want to answer - and preferably sooner rather than later. Keep that in mind for the next few seconds, lest I start this fight up again." Her eyes narrowed. "And in that second round, you will be quick to realize why I have that wolfish epithet attached to my self. Very, very quick."
@ NP: Brown is meant to be human, so check out her Human tab if considering her appearance!! I'm just posting as her urban legend tab in case it inspires your response!!
also.... characterization notes are under a spoiler for the sake of post brevity, but you don't have to adhere to these 100% if you don't want to!!
Brown is...... fit, to say the least. she's literally an accused murderer with an aggressive streak, and she also goes out hunting for fossils every so often. the latter often involves her hauling heavy loads once she's done excavating fossils, so...... yea...... buff furry go brr. there's a good chance that she'll win against your character if they don't have a suitable counterattack against her (whether it be through brute force, magic, or something sneaky like a distraction).
she also happens to carry around a dagger pretty often too, if you want to consider weapons!! her team on the Pokémon tab is actually redundant because she gave up competitive battling after her husband's death, but there's a good chance she might use Minou against your character if they're trying to break into her home (though that's admittedly a loose interpretation of the thread prompt because of Minou being a guard animal).
for nonviolent options, though.... Brown likes to garden and cook, though she generally also has a bit of a competitive streak in general, so.... expect her to take it too seriously if given the right impetus. verbal spats are also perfectly fine with me if you want to go for that route!! ^^
I'll also try my best to do a follow-up for NP if I have the time!!