He laughs, standing in the doorway of his apartment. When he'd suspected that someone was coming after him to kill him, he'd made an effort to greet them, just to judge who they were and if they were worthy enough of taking his life. So far, it wasn't looking good. "Ahaha! Wow! Who sent you? Scar, himself?" He sneers, finding a confident smirk as his shoulder bumps into the lining of the threshold. "Look, I'm sure you're dangerous and could probably kill me if you really wanted to, but tell whoever sent you that they're going to have to do better than the Lion King to make sure I'm dead, alright?"
I felt like this would be kinda fun.
Basically your OC finds out that the OC above is going to assassinate them at any given point.
How do they react to this? What do they do? How intimidated are they by the OC above?
So, I will use my assassin OC Scourge for this. (partly because he was what inspired me to make this) So basically whoever comments IC next has to react to hearing the news that they are about to be killed by this guy. They might survive though if they're lucky.
Seriously? Had the empire sent a massive cat to kill him this time? He was pretty much dumbfounded at the spot for a while, almost about to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. "Could they really not send anyone else? Are they running low on cannon fodder?" He said to Syaxi with confidence. He would pay for that confidence insantly because in one quick motion the cat had cut him in his side which made him growl at the sudden sense of pain in his torso. He quickly moved backwards, creating distance between them as he started using a healing spell on the wound which closed it enough for him to be able to move a bit more freely. Still, any wounds deeper than this and he'd be in serious trouble. "Seems like your outward appearance clouded my judgement." He removed his scythe from his back and shook it to extend its blade. "Nevertheless, It isn't my first dance with death and it certainly won't be my last."
Valnier looked in into the mirror in front of him, he had suspected such an event. It was inevitable really, the damn beast was never to be trusted. How could he- no no, it was a misjudgment of character. It wasn’t going To happen. He shan’t trust a beat no matter how well meaning they seem
“Your turn was not impossible, but I’m disappointed” Valnier spoke, his voice softer Than it usually was N’afri stood in the door way, their dancer set on. Strange, He had felt his upper lip twitch.
Valnier ran his gloved digits across the razor sharp side of his rapier. He mumbled a small prayer and turned to N’afri, not positioned in his usual stance when he had a gun with him. This time he held one arm behind his back “let us see if you can stand against a holy man”
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(I'M SORRY BUT I HAVE TO RESPOND
Valnier looked almost saddened by Illiyana's response. He was hired by both the village and contracted by the witch hunter college with hunting her down. He had hoped she was a mindless beast by this point. Who's sole devotion was to killing others so they may join her. But the fact she seemed apathetic to it all made his heart sink horribly. But he steeled himself, the weight of age now joined by guilt as she rose. Too much humanity was in her words
But still, he clicked by the hammer of his blunderbuss and drew his rapier. If her words of being a holy woman, a paladin, were true. This would be difficult for his mind, she might've even become one of Sigmar's chosen if not for her curse. With a shakey breath and a dull tone "Sigmar, guide us so that chaos nor Nagash may take hold of our souls" he stopped and finished almost solemnly "I pray that who dies here will not be looked down upon by the gods" He sprung forward, thrusting his blade for hr chest
(Sorry I just gotta, the idea of them facing off is a cool one!)
The undead slowly looks up from where she'd been sitting, a pipe held gently between armored fingers, a sigh of smoke leaving her as her white eyes rest on Valnier. It provides no pleasant buzz for her, simply just familiarity with the motion and the scent of heavy herbs that wouldn't be difficult for the witch hunter to catch a whiff of.
"I've been expecting you." Or rather, she'd been expecting anyone to step out of those bushes, intent on snuffing her life out. Probably hired by a nearby village full of superstitious folk. As frustrating as it was, she couldn't really blame them for it. They simply didn't know. Still, she's not surprised when Valnier steps through.
Of course, this witch-hunter, who distrusted her so would be content to come and quell some unruly undead at the behest of some villagers. Her face becomes a little more somber, and she stands slowly, making it clear she's not a threat. Not yet at least. "I was hoping that perhaps I could convince whoever they sent that I am no threat. Whether by bribes or what have you." Illanya trails off and she stares hard at Valnier, gauging his reaction.
"I see that it was a fool's hope." She sighs, and plunges her thumb into the pipe, snuffing the smoldering leaves within before dumping it out and stowing it away.
Illanya picks up a dark helmet that had been resting by her feet and holds it in her hands, as if inspecting it for a moment. "You know, I was once like you, overzealous, and devoted to the divine. Now, in this faux life I live, I understand things aren't so cut and dry as I believed. Even in regards to the Gods. I wonder what would have happened to you if you were in my position. How you would've changed." She muses slowly, before turning the helm around and sliding it onto her head.
"I suppose we'll never know. I have no interest in resurrecting people after they've died. And you..." Illanya draws the battle axe from her belt and points to Valnier with it, "I'm sure you will have the good fortune of remaining dead after this." The voice echoing through her helm is harsh, and anger has begun to color her tone. Armor clinks as the undead takes a warrior's stance, axe gripped in both hands, her glowing eyes glaring balefully at him through the slots of her helm. "Your move, hunter."
The undead doesn't speak as she approaches, simply looming over ALPHA silently. Admittedly, assassination was not her preferred form of work, but she had been provided with a rather large sum of money for this particular hit. Illanya feels too guilty to do more than tighten her grip on her battleaxe as ALPHA threatens her.
She didn't doubt her ability, but ALPHA's confidence gives her pause, especially as she's bombarded with questions about where she hails and her reasoning for coming after her. It's enough that Illanya takes a step back, her brow furrowing behind her mask. She was expecting ALPHA to run, or fight back, but the woman seemed content to sit at her table, speaking to her conversationally. Illanya's hands shake from where they grasp her axe, and she lifts it slightly, her wooden mask lowering so she doesn't have to meet the other's gaze.
"It's nothing personal, I'm just a foolish wretch trying to make my way in this world. I am sorry that you've seemed to find yourself in my way." She at least sounds sincere.
(I'm very sorry it took me so long, It's been a long past week or so)
"I am impressed you got this far," Alpha remarked, sitting coolly behind her table. "You know, when Charlie finds you here, you will find that she's quite terrifying when angered." She took mental stock of her situation. A few daggers under her cloak, her sword being repaired, and her ice magic recuperating from a wearying journey. Not a great set of variables. The intruder had chosen a good time to appear.
"And where are you from? You seem to not be from here," she noted, forcibly casual, with what might have been genuine curiosity before she shook her head. "Well, it doesn't matter. I wonder if it was worth the journey." It was dangerous, of course, to engage with this individual. She seemed muscular, and towered over Alpha-- there would be no winning if the other struck now. And so Alpha kept talking with the ice at her fingertips, gazing at the strange mask her assassin wore.
"At least tell me who you are," she decided, with all the seriousness of a woman who had been threatened death before, and the leisure of a woman who knew she would win. "I'd like to hear your reasons before you kill me... or attempt to, in any case."
Her smile was cold and austere, even as her heart drummed at her ribcage and the tips of her fingers went numb with frost.
...
oh I really like how you write and your character is so cool I hope all the best for him. manipulate mansplain manslaughter
Alpha's eyes were steely and cold as she stared him down, not so much as blinking at the offer for coffee.
"Anything else? Don't get me wrong, those would make lovely last words," Alpha said dryly, pushing the earlier part of his speech out of her mind as much as possible. "Just like you to say something that paints you as the virtuous party. Don't act as if you're better than me in that regard, Arkanus."
She tilted her head, unwilling to let him escape her sight for even a second as he gazed out the window, seemingly at ease in contrast to the danger of his words, designed with clinical precision. "Believe me, I've heard about you as well. You're comfortable turning your back to me knowing that I can't kill you. And believe me," she squared her shoulders. "We will figure it out. If you come quietly this will not have to hurt, at least."
He felt the chill before her presence. Slowly, Ark turned around and folded his arms behind his back as he gazed at the sword pointed at him. Decorative, and with fragments of ice on it most likely from its owners powers. His eyes traveled up to the intruder, gazing into her eyes. She's young, he thought to himself, eyes glinting briefly.
"Not very befitting for a commander, is this?" he asked with a warm smile. "Don't be surprised, I've heard about you-- or of you. A blue-haired woman trying to be a commander for a nearby commander. That's an ambitious and noble goal, but assassinating others isn't the way to get there. You know that deep down, don't you?"
Another friendly smile, then he turned to gaze out the window. "I'm sure you were ordered that from some higher-up. It's terrible how they get others to do their dirty work, isn't it? That's something I'm trying to change, so you're not the first, or last, that will try to end me because of it. However, so far you're the most interesting out of all my attackers." A pause. "It's nice out today. The stars are shining as bright as ever. What's say you put the sword away and join me for some coffee outside instead?"
A fool. Those are the first words that come to Sullivan's mind as he observes the man approaching him with an intent to fight. In this world, the world of nightmares- there was no way to fight a guardian of the gates and walk away freely, no matter who you were. Not even a god or a man of immortality could traverse upon the soil of dreadful sorrows and forgotten plains and live their next day freely. Everyone became a carcass to be eaten by someone stronger here; no exceptions.
His nose recoiled as beams of light drew nearer, thundering past him. Yet, he still didn't bother to move. Ark was arrogant, cocky, and almost unhinged in a way that might be unsettling to those who knew him. To Sullivan, it was a common sight to behold as a person's inner, forgotten insanity took control. Those who weren't born in the realm often lost themselves to fear or delusion within a matter of seconds of breathing the air. There was a reason why humans and their kind didn't live among nightmares.
After a glow soared past the profile of his face, he finally stepped forward and revved the chainsaw. It roared out, giving an almost shrieking scream of life. Darkness would always win against light, and no matter how hard Ark fought, he wasn't going to back down so easily.
The serpent quickened her pace, the child in her arms shivering in midwinter's cold breath. The door to the inn they'd been staying in for the past few days had been left ajar in her haste to escape, swinging loudly on rusted hinges. Her bare feet left tracks in freshly fallen snow, but she hadn't the time to cover them as she ran blindly through the night. Jordyn looked over her shoulder - and though the former goddess saw nothing, she felt it acutely. Danger. As surely as the sun rose in the east; as true as the skies were vast and blue.
Someone sought her, and though she knew not why, the chills that raced down her spine assured her that her pursuer was anything but well intentioned.
The pale lady's frozen feet became tangled in the underbrush, unsure footing sending her and the child sprawling down a hill. They tumbled for a distance before the serpent's skull hit a rock and she saw naught but stars. Her vision blurred as a winged shadow stalked into view, and she scrambled backward, reaching for the thin knife hidden beneath her skirts. Slinking back and crouching low, when the serpent saw her vision tinged with red she realized that she'd have little chance of winning this skirmish.
Risking a glance to her side, Jordyn saw the motionless form of her sister lying face down in the snowbank, and without missing a beat, she rolled across the ground before springing up to assume a protective crouch in front of her.
"Hel,"
The vicious woman hissed, bearing her fangs toward their attacker,
"-get up."
The young girl stirred before crawling to her knees, her eyes filling with the beginnings of tears as she mutely reached out to grab the hem of Jordyn's skirt, only to have her tiny grasp shaken off.
"Go. I'll not say it a second time."
As the slight form of her sister disappeared obediently into the darkened forest, Jordyn smiled at the stranger, streaks of red staining her porcelain features.
"This will be as far as I allow you, shadow," The serpent whispered on the frigid wind,
"Are you an angel of death, finally come to make good on my debts?" She queried. Looking closer now, she saw a flicker of kindness in the stranger's eyes, a gentle hesitation in the way his weapon faltered; and this was weakness enough for the serpent.
"Could you not let the child go? Or has an infant done something to wrong you?"
The demigod spat, words filled with venom,
"Surely your grievance is with me - and any punishment is my own."
Mandragora’s eyes traveled to the side, a pastel woman had sat a few tables away. This wouldn’t be worrisome, especially for a Daughter of Khaine, we’re it not for the fact Mandragora had pissed off a particularly annoying crime boss. Chopping off his fingers when he touched her hair, it was disrespectful for one and even worse having known the man was dealing with a religious woman. One who came from a place of blood and murder.
Either way, she only let her eyes drift over to the girl every now and then. Her main focus was on the strawberry pie she had been meticulously savoring. It was a new taste and a very welcome one, but nothing could be allowed to last it seems. The pastel woman practically glided over to her booth in the bar, sliding into the seat across from her her eyes transfixed oh Mandragora’s face “why hello there” The woman spoke but the Scout tried her best to just focus on her pie
With a grunt The Daughter Of Khaine brought her plate closer and gave a command of “leave” as she began to take another bite. However the increasingly annoying didn’t leave and infact continued “you make enemies easy huh?”
Yup, this was going to end badly for one of them it seems.
———————-
NP: very blunt when it comes to assassinating. Basically goes at ya as soon as you are alone
He had survived her first strike but it was only thanks to his ears sensing the sudden wind change as the weapon went through the air. He turned around, expecting someone else to stand there. Upon seeing Mandragora, his heart sank a little. Had he really been that terrible towards everyone that they would rather want him gone?
“This has to be a mistake, right?” No response, only another attempt at cutting him open, which he barely managed to dodge. He wasn’t going to be able to put up a fight against a warrior that’s over 100 years old in a distant world. He also didn’t want to find out what it’s like to run out of aether in a world without it. He was fearing that it would give a result akin to the final days and the last thing this world needs is a double calamity.
“I don’t know how much they paid you or if this was a unanimous decision to slay me but this is just slightly unfair.” In one quick motion he had equipped his weapon and swung once through the air, leaving a magical trail that cuts through the air. This gave him a small distraction and just enough time to jump off the caravan and hide. Had he had more aether in his weapon, he would have just used enshroud then and there but he was caught off guard.
As he was hiding behind a rock, he couldn’t help but to feel quite hurt. Of all the people he had met, she seemed to have been the most accepting of him. He didn’t blame her though because she was most likely just like him. Forced to take care of whatever someone else didn’t want to do or wasn’t strong enough to do.
——————
N’arfi is more likely to attack someone who’s a danger to the public rather than some random person.
Vitya walked calmly down an open street, it was mostly deserted, and grimy. He felt a twinge of disgust to even be strolling through it — compared to his pristine labs and quatres of Creation, this was an infestation site. He found that slightly comforting... as he picked apart a mouldy burger that was laying on the street in front of him with his shoe. Bacteria always managed to find a way to survive... He smiled at that fact.
As he went, he heard the faint sound of metal clashing on the pavement behind him… The hairs on his arms stood up as he looked over his shoulder. Through his glasses he could see a single figure — he was tall, with pointed fox ears…? Vitya turned to get a better look, and as he did, the figure swiped at the boy with a large scythe! That must have been the metallic sound from before…
Panicked, Vitya jumped back and grabbed for the inside of his jacket. His opposer went to make another strike, but Vitya was already running, he did not want to wait around... When it came to close combat, slightly unarmed, Vitya felt to be at a disadvantage --- It was moments such as this he wondered if his mother was right to want him to carry a proper gun…
Still, his hand gripped the handle of his fancier pistol fast! Upon pulling it out of its concealed pocket, N’arfi could only see a regular hand-gun...with a scope fuzed to its top. Vitya lined it up and fired fast, a dart whizzed by N’arfi’s shoulder as he jumped away from Vitya’s line of fire. This was a pistol for sure, but its ammunition was no mere bullet. They were poison darts! Vitya smiled, he shook his head at his earlier thought — no, this so-called “heart-attack gun” was far greater fun than any regular one!
—
NP: Vitya can kill in many ways, if you want to really look into biological weaponry… simply some ways he might assassinate someone would be with a poison dart like above (look up the Heart-attack gun) or he’d inject them with a disease/virus or something like that - it could either be long term or not. Sometimes he shows himself and sometimes he doesn’t. Take creative liberty!