Logs:A Day in the Knife Of Nilsen
A Day in the Knife Of Nilsen
He's been around somewhere since they left their Haven, always just out of sight. About two meters tall, average build, balding, thick beard. He wore a tacky t-shirt celebrating a long-since passed Mardi Gras, a fanny pack, shorts that reach just above his knees, and fresh white sneakers. He holds a camera in his hand, and the few times Nilsen has been able to get him in sight he is always taking a photo of something just out of sight.
Nilsen isn't very happy. They're low on blood, hungry for blood, and have seen a /lot/ of it recently. They need to feed. This guy might do, but it can't hurt to just...talk. For a bit. As their brother once said, never fight a man in a fanny pack without weighing other options. Dressed in decent-if-cheap clothes, Nilsen approaches the man, trying to see what they're taking photos of.
As Nilsen approaches the man doesn't lower the camera initially. He was taking a picture of what looks like nothing. Just an alley way and a dumpster. As he clicks for the next shot he slowly turns around. When he sees Nilsen he gives them a confused look, brow quirked. "Good evening," he then says with a happy smile. "Is good, yes? Very good!"
Uh. Okay. Honestly not what they expected but they can work with that. "Good, yeah. What's good?" They're bad at talking to people, yeah, but outside of that hunger simmering in their souls now they honestly have to know what the hell is up with this guy. Thumbs up? Good?
The man took a step back, and in an instant something was in his left hand. A knife. The way that blade shone in the light betrayed it to be more than just steel or iron. Where he pulled it from is hard to say, but as he approached Nilsen his intent was clear.
What the fuck?! "Easy! Easy! That won't do-" That's a knife, alright. Silver? Would that hurt? Their sire never said to /avoid/ silver, but they didn't mention if it would hurt more. Not exactly interested in finding out. Nilsen looks around quickly. Any mortals around other than this dude? Just in case things got violent. Again. It's really been a night.
He was indeed ready to get Nilsen right in the gut, and try to make those insides outside. It seems the street is clear save a two souls. An older man walking his dog, both of them with their backs turned to Nilsen and the stranger. They were busy with enjoying their nighttime stroll, and the man flipped the grip he had on the knife while readying another attack.
He growls, upset by his failure. Instead of giving up he just grips the knife by both hands, and tries to get Nilsen good in the ribs. It may have been too much, and the Knife deftly avoids the attempted stabbing. "Why so hard!?" he man screams. Then he shouts, "Shicatto!"
Shicatto? What the fuck does shica-ohcraphe'scomingback. So Nilsen decks the guy in the face. Like, hard. Really hard. It's one of those nights, where you want to punch something. Or someone. And hey, there's a guy for it! Even if Nilsen is vaguely terrified someone is trying to stick them with a piece of silver. In public. That's about the only reason Nilsen hasn't tried murdering this guy yet.
While the faux tourist was in the middle of the melee with Nilsen something else was happening. Something that raised the hackles on the back of his neck. The man he's fighting is dizzied by the blow, stunned and bleeding from his mouth. Behind him, though, that old man isn't walking his dog anymore. He's shouldering a rifle while his four-leggend friend skulks toward Nilsen.
Ah shit. Ah SHIT. Why did they have a dog!? Nilsen grabs the stunned man, wrenching him somewhat between Nilsen and the new arrivals. Hopefully that'd help. The knife needs some time to think about why someone is trying to shoot him in the street.
The dog was barking like mad as it raced along. Its loping ends when it lunges itself at Nilsen, maw wide open. It takes a bite at Nilsen's leg, mostly getting more pants than flesh. However, those teeth do find enough purchase that he feels it. While the dog starts tugging on their pants the dog's master takes his first shot at Nilsen with a gun that clearly ain't legal as he fires off a few shots into the Vampire.
Is that a g- Oh, yeah, hello. That's a gun alright. The gunshots landing like hammerblows, Nilsen spasms a hand out and launches a dart of serrated bone at the rifleman. Knifey is shoved aside to do it. Desperate times.
Indeed it is a gun. An assault rifle, and one that doesn't look terribly new. It jerks up as the man takes a piece of bone right to his chest. He mutters something under his breath, whatever it was sounded nothing close to English. The rifle is readied again, but he doesn't fire off immediately. No, he waits until his compatriot takes off for the hills. The dog that was chewing on Nilsen's pant leg is shaken off as the first assailant runs off. The man with the gun then takes his shot as he lets out a breath, however, he ends up going wide left with the shot.
Nilsen's eyes flick to watch Knifey leg it, arm twisting and crackling as a new and gnarly weapon sprouts from it. It's a bladed flour of bone and tendon, ready for use. Nilsen can feel their vitae leaving them, the maddening hunger, and it's really not doing any favors for the pacifist route.
The man takes a few steps back as Nilsen approaches. The closer they get the more he moves. The dog, however, is heading right for them. He barks and yaps, and then he leaps at Nislen. He takes a bite of the Knife's leg again, and this proves to be enough of a distraction. The man with the gun takes another shot, this time much more precise.The new weapon finds a home in the gunman's chest, tendons pulsing and bone crackling as it siphons off blood and feeds it back into Nilsen. That gun makes big holes, but they're filling in slowly but surely. "Who are you?" This voice is...hollow. It's been too long of a day for anything other than a zen-like state of anger. Enough is enough.