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    Worlok's Avatar

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    Default Re: Deathknell Chronicles IC, Chapter 1: Eyes Open

    Now, while he'd had daggers drawn on him before, Faruq was not a guy for fighting, and he certainly didn't want to get stabbed over some old geezer's dearly devastated ass. He figured some explaining could just do the trick, however, and he did have their attention, now: "Nah, really, I mean it. Dis is such a load, it's like you basically don't even need a trial. You want justice? Then you can't hate on no victims, here, dat much is obvious, or i'n't it, now?" Seeing how I'm speaking now already, anyway, I might as well continue. Did that guy just draw a knife on me? Did he just order him to get my tongue? It's prolly just a test, don't bother. "Way I see it, all you's doin' is put on a show, and act like you's like all-important and in charge. Which you might be, no question, but I just don't see the point, alright?" He paused, looking around, standing a little more straight, a little more resolved, and bent on this whole deal's fast resolution, confused and afraid though he was by now.

    "See, obviously, I don't yet know how this whole thing works, y'see? Like, you tell me you's Ca-ma-rya, and dat's like yer gang, and basically there are like seven clans in dat one? But there's thirteen left or some? Alright. But me, I's speaking as a guy wha' did already have a clan before this, like, al-Assad is my name, 'n' all. 'n' basically, I didn' even lis'en to the half of it, 'cos it's a lil' bit much to take, alright? But wha' I did, I done been told that everybody who I ever done looked up to, they's a corpse." Or, basically, screw it. Speed's all gathered, now. "Like, not a dead one, but mo' like a livin' one, like yous. Mah uncle, he done given me a second chance, and he's a Kind-red, like the bunch a you, and his name's like Ahmad al-Assad, what done iced that Weinmann brother, who I have been told was like yer pre-de-cessa', Ol... yer majesty. Alright? So, I's not sayin', I'm the enemy, I'm tellin' you you better lis'en, if yer wan' my word on dis, 'cos, like, my word's like follows, ken?"

    By now, he'd caught his breath, was settling into flow and meter of his speech, trying to focus on the very essence of his Goddamn-Ferret drug-dealing convincing power like so many times before, yet still he found his panic surging up, much like his anger, and his accent slipping, like too many times since coming to America. Plus, well, that one flat-faced jackass now bore down on him, blade drawn, which was the reason why he talked so very fast: "The hell is wrong with you, ye wankers?" Prolly not a test, then. Not as planned. "Like, real talk, Princeship? I done been impressed by you. I seen dis hall fulla punks for myself by now, and I'm nah impressed by nah single one a' dem either. But I was impressed by you, running the business, not givin' a damn and stylin' on ol' Krauty here like noone'd even bother. Ya wan' that to be over, now? Like, really done-dead-over up in here? Then go ahead, sic dat dere ass on me. But honestly? Bitch looks like he done failed to dodge a door every so often, and you send 'im in a fight with me? You better believe all dat's e'er gonna get you is like some ten(!) dead(!) men(!) up in dis once it's over and dat one homie with a whack-ass Croc'o-Dundee-knife what's done up even uglier than he done been before!" Prolly not the smartest of insults a dude can drop upon a bunch of goblins, but so what, they started it. Best to give him what for all it's worth.

    "You want my tongue out? You call me a monkey? You say I'm a clown in French? Well, tough luck, Princy, and yer Western culture can go suck it, 'cos I's Arab, 'n' a lion, 'n' I'm smarter than the whole damn bunch a' you!" Fighting it is, then. Don't panic. Calm. Let 'im come, let 'im suffer, here! "When dis bitch dere firs' came for me, I thought she was the Mossad, yes?" Here, Faruq pointed at Melanie, while slowly, determinedly, stalking backwards, not breaking eye contact with Jean (Nobility be damned, you won't have it so easy, goblin bitch!), all the time readying himself in due expectance of a blow. "And I learned dat my uncle? He done iced some Jew. He iced dat Jew so bad his ho got wonky, and I figured, hey, alright, I get it, I can deal! But now? You know what I done realised jus' now? I almos' killed dat bitch when I was jus' a mortal, and I'm offa Kin-dred, now. It took her four damn bullets and like five gos withat damn ol' hammer jus' ta bust me over, so you bet your wrinkly, old-ass, faithless... ass dat I can bust ya up in turn! AND HOW!"

    He proceeded to spit, right there, down on the carpet, to get some of the gathered saliva out of his mouth. He had it. He had it with the Kindred, with the lies, with all the playing of this masquerade of theirs, and most importantly, he'd had it with these people thinking they were tough crap when they weren't, obviously. He was the toughest, after all, and on the top, it's really only lonely cause there can be only one. "So I'd say, you wanna come for me? You can have a go! But you don't get to push me over, you don't get to push me down, and I'll give as many as you care to take, and still be standin' when we're done with it, y'know?" By this point, he had backed against a wall. Expectant, ready 'n' waitin', divide the herd. "But you better be realisin' dat to sic yer knife-boy on some guy that's smarter doesn't make ya look important, it just makes ya look afraid! You can't deal with a guy who outsmarts ya, then politics and ya bitch-ass owned criminals ain't got jack on me, and dey's nah no place for yous, either, hear?"

    And trying to at least not go out without one last hoorah, he figured he could as well... just ask. Yeah. Basically. Panic washing over him, all over, fear of final death slowly, but surely, taking hold, he leveled a glance straight at Jean du Noir, Josef Kirsch, and the entire goddamn table, and pointedly asked: "So. Will you play it like a bitch, or will you hear me out here? You wanna take your chances I'll tear yer flat-head down and ice you, or take the chances that I just so happen to have a clue, and know what I'm talking about, and could help ya, here? Because it so happens, you want a trial, I have a proposition that will help everyone, 'n' not jus' her, not jus' you, nor jus' Jackass, either." Jackass the One-Shotted. Nice bad burn, that, but I gotta focus, life's on the line in here.

    He almost felt like he had screwed up now, but he had opened his cup, he'd drink it, too. And what's so bad about likin' asses, now? Your balls already rotten off, or somethin'? Dis is like State a' Washington, 'n' not France. Age of consent is sixteen, here, and she's about at least that old or some-in' by the looks of her. Still, though, you people best not come for me, I tried to save ya, better you remember that. It simply got away. He was stubborn, for sure, and stupid. But that was where he stood, back to the wall, and with a chance of being listened to, now that he'd clearly taken up position. And as he so rambled, he felt something, maybe panic, maybe instinct, maybe God, take hold and blast forth from his anguished form and well into the Kindred gathered as he felt that this was it, his last and only shot at an impression. One to last, that was. Right. I got superpowers now.

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    Alright. Extreme measures, extreme circumstances, all that jazz. Seeing how this is kind of his last shot at making it, however, I figure some rolls are alright, y'see?

    So, to intimidate (yes, intimidate, I'm insisting on it): Not so much Strength+Intimidation, but more like Charisma+Intimidation, plus maybe the two from voice? Would give: (7d10)[2][9][5][2][10][10][4](42) (EDIT: Boo Yeah, DOUBLE-TEN!)

    Then, to make a convincing point through all his panicked rambling, maybe the same+Expression, too? (7d10)[6][4][2][7][8][1][3](31)

    And ultimately, blowing off one Presence to use Awe. And this is final, now.

    Also, don't misinterpret my phrasing, I'm neither mad at you, nor intentionally disruptive. Faruq is simply thinking that he's fighting for his life by now, and you are obviously free to just not count my rolls. I just figured I'd have him use his build at least once ere it's over. In case there's something you don't like about me doing this, or playing in this manner, or if there's something I oughta know about, simply take it up with me over in OOC.
    Last edited by Worlok; 2012-07-26 at 09:57 PM. Reason: We're cool.