hadriel_logs | Event Log: Assassin

Who: Everyone!
What: The Assassin event
Where: Throughout the city
When: April 15th-23rd
Warnings: Inevitable character death, potential horror and gore and unpleasantness. Please remember to tag for warnings in the header if it things get too bad!

The morning of April 15th in Hadriel is cheerful, with artificial light streaming through your window. Your blankets are warm, jabberjays are shrieking, and you're probably going to experience a murder attempt today.

Maybe it'll be from a stranger, maybe it'll be from a friend, but the bottom line is that everybody is after somebody and nobody is safe (...okay, twelve people are safe, but that's beside the point). Time will only tell when you'll be overcome by that murderous rage and try to kill someone else. The best thing you can probably do at this point is stay calm, keep your head high, and try not to die for the next eight days.

Helpfully, Rage will have restocked her armory for the event, for those of you have yet to arm themselves. Additionally, for a limited time only, the armory will be stocked with bear traps, tripwire (in both 'general wire' and 'barbed wire' flavor), and voice recorders. Use all of them, use none of them, just get on out there and kill each other!

Oh, and one last thing...

► This log covers April 15th-23rd.
► Feel free to make your own logs as well!
► Please tag headers of threads with content warnings where they apply
► Please put your character's name and open/closed in the subject line of your starters!
► Did your assassin catch up to you? Please remember to hit up our death post!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Nick is, for the most part, unaware of what's happening in the city, that people have been caused to turn on each other in new but still familiarly shitty ways. Whatever. Just another day in Monstercave City, right?

She hears a voice she doesn't recognize, and it takes her a moment to realize she's the one being addressed. She slows her pace and turns back over her shoulder - there's someone following her, all right, and she glances around her to make sure there isn't someone else she could be talking to. No one. This woman's definitely trying to get her attention. Nick halts and turns around to face her.]

You talkin' to me? I mean, I guess you must be, 'cause ain't no one else around.

[She's not actually aiming for a Travis Bickle impersonation, but it's more or less there all the same. She crosses her arms over her chest, giving Fiona an appraising glance.]

What do you want?

[ If there was any reason she tailed this girl, it was unknown to her. There was an inkling - something that encourages her to follow in a hazy, dream-like way. There wasn't anything calm about her mind, though - there's an undeniable anger burning inside of her. But why? Fiona clenches her fists in her jacket when the woman turns, completely exposing her face. ]

Yeah, I am.

[ The impression is sadly lost on her - but if explained later, she'd totally give a thumbs up. For now, Fiona's left out of her element. This isn't a space western like Pandora - no showdown at noon 'til the countdown guides pistols out and bullets flying. ]

I - [ Don't know?! Her lips snarl a bit, fumbling with the switch blade hidden in her pocket. ] - don't like the cut of your jib.

[ This was both embarrassing and pathetic. God damn you, Rage. Fiona's street cred is like 0 now. ]

[Did Nick hear correctly. Are these actual words you just said. Her face twists up in something like disgust and surprise all at once.]

The cut of my jib? What, are you like, from the 1800s or something? What the fuck is that even supposed to mean?

[She rolls her eyes.]

Jesus, and I got people here callin' me a grandma.

[She sighs. Being Nick is suffering.]

OK, well, since you have a problem with the cut of my jib, whatever the fuck that is, how about you just do the common sense thing and fuck right off?

[ There's something wrong.

Fiona's neck rolled uncomfortably so, uprising her shoulders as if trying to shake something off. Shake off something that she can't control. Fiona's words were met with cringe-worthy responses (well deserved). ]

That's what I said - yeah. [ She has to clarify and further did herself into the pit. And it's actually annoying that she insinuates she's totally old. If she knew what 1800s were, she figures there is a definite insult there. ] Can't do that.

[ Fiona's not ready for this - not when there's an obvious resistance. The feelings confuse her and she's lifting her arm up, her pistol sliding from her wrist right into her palm. ]

It's - look, it's really complicated! I don't know what the hell is going on b-but - !

[ God damn it, Fiona's free hand goes up to try and lower the pistol, but she's sweating her own bullets at this point. Teeth tight with a grit, Fi is looking for a fight. And her finger pulls the trigger. Shoddily aimed probably closer to her arm than a killing blow. The only difference was her bullet ignited with flame, offering a whole world of pain for her if it did indeed hit her. ]

You can't do that?

[Seriously, what is this woman's damage? Nick's rolling her eyes again, huffing loudly, halfway turning on her heel to leave when there's a pistol aimed her way and fired, and she isn't expecting that, not at all. It's only through sheer luck that the flaming bullet manages to only graze her arm, singing a trajectory across her jacket sleeve. Nick notices the flame immediately, though, frantically clapping the edge of her other sleeve over the smoking fabric, panic and outrage and shock worked into her expression as she looks back to Fiona. She just shot her. How is that a thing that just happened.]

Jesus Christ, you psycho bitch, what the fuck is your problem?!

[ She's so terribly sorry about this attitude problem.

It was a feeling she can't get a hold on. Kind of like getting cut in line amplified by twenty. A fly buzzing around she can't quite slap down. Fiona tries her best to keep herself from doing something stupid, but the resounding shot flying from her pistol says otherwise.

She struggles a bit, apologetically shaking her head a bit, unaware of how the bullet narrowly missed. ]

I don't know!

[ Her hand's shaky now and Fiona struggles, but there's another roll of her barrell - her pistol taking aim once more. ]

You don't feel it? No. You can't. You're so fucking dead!

[ She's trying so hard to shake it off, but another bullet fires off, electricity immediately sparking from wherever it hit - ground or flesh. ]

Get the hell out of here - I can't -

[Nick's on edge now, so she sees the bullet coming and manages to narrowly get out of the way this time. She was irritated before, but now? Now, Nick is pissed.]

I'm dead? [She scoffs loudly.] I don't fucking think so. You just picked the wrong person to fuck with.

[She's 500% done with this, and she's got a weapon up her sleeve that she can use, here and now, to knock this woman out of the park. In a matter of seconds, she's transformed, no longer a scowling girl in plain dark modern clothes, she's grown bigger, whiter - a larger-than-life antique porcelain doll in Victorian dress, layers upon layers of black ribbons and lace, dark curls of hair cascading down her back and over her shoulders. There's a single blemish on her otherwise perfect skin - a fissure cracked in her forehead. Only her eyes remain the same - glass doll eyes now, fringed with impossible black lashes, but the same startling shade of blue.

An inhuman wail comes from the direction of her painted-on mouth, aimed straight for Fiona. If the sound wave connects, it should stun her silent and immobile.]

J-just GO!

[ Between a scowling stare, she tries to get the girl some life advice - but nope, the whole body betraying her thing was happening.

It was like her body moved on strings - puppeteered by a force she can't quite explain. The girl wasn't even that bad - a little sassy (but then again, who wasn't now a days?) so why did she find it easy to pull the trigger.

The sudden transformation unveiling in front of her makes her stomach hollow, a harsh gulp soon following. Figures. Fucking figures that when she starts trouble, trouble finds a way to kick her ass. The porcelain doll would catch the light of a room had they encountered indoors, but no - the pale reflection of her own bad choices look back at Fiona.

The sudden impact of the scream engulfs her like a flame. She's left dropping her gun, catching her barings and dropping to one knee. Whatever this scream did to her, it takes her attention away and makes her vulnerable. Too vulnerable. ]

[Nick isn't always a good person. She's internalized a lifetime of being told she's worthless and terrible, and habitually does very little to dissuade anyone else of thinking she's anything but. She acts like an asshole a lot of the time simply because she can, and she can be vicious in retaliating when she's been hurt.

And she's offended and irritated by this encounter, that's for certain. If she truly were a terrible person, she might follow up the stunning scream with something a lot more lethal - the bolts of dark energy that emerged during her face-off with a wendigo. But this is a person, not a monster who's attacked her. Somewhere, underneath the boil of anger over being attacked for no reason, Nick realizes this distinction, and instead of taking advantage of the other woman's vulnerable state, she stands down for the moment.]

I'm warning you - don't fuck with me again.

Event Log: Assassin

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cw misogynistic slur because she's awful :c

not anymore awful than RAGE

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