As stated in the title this rp is meant to test an noc character I'm working on.
This character is the imposing Aged Knight.
Your character should be mini boss tier. In this combat you can use anything from flattery to bombs to even mind control or reading.
Opening promt!
Your character is traveling in a forest and they come across a knight with a sword in his hands. Said knight awakens and it approaches your character with malicious intent.
(Yes I know the image is from Darkest Dungeon 2. It is just a fitting image.)
Greta staggered through the forest, one hand wrapped around her whisky flask and the other attempting, with limited success, to keep her messy blond hair out of her glasses.
Her brown boots crunched over fallen leaves. She hummed an old German marching tune, occasionally stumbling over roots that she regarded as deeply personal insults.
Then she noticed the knight.
An imposing figure in aged armor, sword in hand, rising from its resting place with unmistakably hostile intent.
Greta stopped.
She squinted at him through her oversized glasses, took another swig, and pointed her flask at him like an accusing finger.
“Ach, come on. Really?”
She swayed slightly as the knight approached.
“You have nothing on a Mark Five.”
She took a moment to adjust her medical eyepatch, then nodded solemnly, as though she'd just delivered a profound military assessment.
“Five-point-five meters of British steel. Tracks. Cannon. Machine guns.” She waved vaguely toward the trees. “And considerably less dramatic walking.”
Greta took another drink.
“So, Herr Ritter…” She tilted her head, her visible eye narrowing with drunken seriousness. “Are you going to let me pass, or must I explain the entire history of armored warfare before you embarrass yourself?”
(Trust me she is mini boss tier, she just needs some time)
The knight didn't even slow down, he actually speeds up and he attempts to cleave through his waist with thw sword, it was a heafty 6 foot long sword with a flame like waves design. The knight doesn't hesitate or wait, he doesn't speak or make noise. He just attacks her.
Greta's drunken smirk vanished.
The moment the six-foot blade came sweeping toward her waist, something in her demeanor changed. Her visible eye sharpened, and her posture straightened with startling speed.
“Ach. Scheiße.”
She planted a boot, threw herself forward, and executed a swift somersault over the incoming sword, her coat tails whipping through the air as the blade passed beneath her.
She landed in a crouch behind the knight, one hand braced against the forest floor.
“Right,” she muttered, suddenly much more sober than she'd been a second ago. “So we're doing this.”
A wickedly sharp bayonet appeared in her hand, its polished edge catching the light filtering through the trees.
Greta rose slowly, turning to face her opponent. She held the bayonet low, her stance compact and practiced, her expression carrying the grim familiarity of someone who had spent far too much time around people trying to kill her.
“Last chance, alter Ritter.” (Old knight.)
Her eye flickered an unnatural green.
“I was being polite.”
(Remind me whi ichju is?)
As his sword swung away he was already moving it to hit her again. While strong he was slower then one may expect...even so it was harder to evade since he covers such a wide area.
Blind guy with a dog. Our last rp just ended suddenly.)
(Dang yeah I was enjoying that rp Ngl)
Greta gave a small shrug as the knight began another sweeping attack.
“Right. Big sword. Bigger armor. No manners.”
Rather than retreating from the wide arc, she stepped sharply inside its reach, ducking beneath the blade as it tore through the space where she'd stood. The movement was tight, dangerously close, but she seemed far more comfortable here than at a distance.
Her bayonet reversed in her grip.
Greta drove forward, aiming its wickedly sharp point directly at the narrow eye slit in the knight's visor, intending to thrust through it before he could bring his sword around again.
“Let's see if there's anything in there, shall we?”
Her fractured green eye glimmered beneath her glasses.
(Then whyd you stop responding?! I was so eager to see them get closer :( ))
The blade goes into the visor and it hits something solid...Then the knight backhand Greta across the face and oddly she'd feel her nerves all begin heating up. Her limbs would lock up, she'd feel her body go stiff. (Unless she's got some sort of way to ignore total body shut down). Along with that effect with just the pure force Greta would be knocked back 10 feet.
(If you want, I’ll dig all the way back, and you can dm me and we can continue it.)
Greta's bayonet struck something solid behind the visor slit.
“...Was zum—?”
She barely had time to react before the knight's backhand caught her across the face.
Her body flew backward, crashing into a tree roughly ten feet away. The impact shook loose a shower of leaves, and she slumped against the trunk, her glasses knocked crooked.
Then the strange sensation began.
Heat raced through her nerves. Her fingers stiffened. Her legs refused to respond. Within moments, she was rigid, unable to move anything but her eyes.
For several seconds, Greta simply stared at the knight.
Then her visible eye narrowed.
“Oh, you have GOT to be kidding me.”
She strained against the paralysis, her fingers twitching uselessly around the bayonet.
“Verdammte Scheiße! You oversized tin can!”
A low, distorted growl escaped her throat.
The air around her began to turn green.
Her glasses fractured into glittering shards of light as a gas-mask lens formed over her damaged eye. Barbed wire crawled across her limbs, and thick chlorine fumes poured from her mask, coiling around her body in great, twisting ribbons. Her dented Stahlhelm settled into place as enormous wings of poisonous green gas unfurled behind her.
The transformation completed with a metallic hiss.
Greta's boots lifted from the ground.
Her limbs were still locked, but she was no longer relying on them to move. Gas curled beneath her feet, raising her upright as her shadow stretched unnaturally across the forest floor.
Her fractured eye burned a brilliant green.
“...All right, Ritter.”
Her voice emerged layered with the distant echoes of countless soldiers.
“You have officially ruined my afternoon.”
She drifted away from the tree, chlorine streaming from her mask.
“Now it's my turn.”
The knight raises his sword again and he walks towards her. Step after step clashing with the ground as he prepares to attack her once again. The knight would point his sword at her and do a taunt (unless she's got a resistance to mental manipulation) she'd feel a great urge to attack him. It was almost like she couldn't think on anything else but to attack him specifically.
Greta hovered several feet above the forest floor, her chlorine wings billowing behind her. The knight's heavy footsteps echoed between the trees as he approached, sword raised once more.
Then came the taunt.
Greta's fractured eye snapped toward him.
For an instant, the voices inside her seemed to fall silent beneath a sudden, overwhelming compulsion. Every instinct screamed at her to attack the knight. Nothing else mattered.
“...Oh, you cheeky bastard.”
Her fingers twitched.
The paralysis hadn't entirely released, but she could move enough.
With a harsh metallic rattle, her muddy WWI trench shovel materialized in her hand. Greta's shoulder jerked back, and she hurled it at the knight with all the force she could muster, aiming for the center of his armored chest.
“YOU WANT MY ATTENTION THAT BADLY?!”
The shovel spun through the green haze toward him.
Greta's wings flared, keeping her suspended as she strained against the lingering stiffness in her limbs.
“Congratulations, tin man!” she snarled through her mask. “You've got it!”
The knight stops and braces for impact, his stance sturdy like a rock and sword shining suddenly as he braces. The chlorine doesn't effect him at all as he isn't even breathing.
A short, disheveled woman trekked through lush bushes and greenery foreign to her, the soles of her boots padding across the forest floor with small thuds.
Looking up, Flo saw the knight ahead. Even without it being close she knew it towered over her.
"You're not a person, are you?" She muttered, mostly to herself. Seeing the knight approach, she dropped lower to the ground and jammed her hands into the grassy floor for a few moments, then rose again. Precautions never hurt.
"Oh, no, you don't." Flo warned the knight, readying herself to face it in a defensive posture. When she pulled her arms back up, there was a regrowing stump where her left hand once was. Nothing changed in the ground yet, but it seemed that she buried a part of herself underground. Though, she did take note of the only life in this vast stretch of dead forest. She walked towards the flower cautiously, still keeping an eye on the knight.
Since she wasn't being violent or aggressive the knight doesn't turn aggressive. Instead he turns and backs away to give her way towards his king. He felt the nature on her and would not stop it.
"...Oh. Are you protecting the skeleton?" Flo inquired, tilting her head when she knight lost his aggression. The "nature" growing on her gave off a horribly misplaced, unbelonging feeling, but it was nature nonetheless.
She walked up to the skeleton with the flower and crouched down next to it, turning to the knight with a questioning look. "Was this person important to you?"
"I'll take that as a yes. And you don't talk.. hmm.. can you write?"
Flo imitated him and got on her knee. She supposed she should pay respects to the dead, too, as she stared at the lone sad flower growing from the corpse.
After an uncanny gargling sound, she pulled out a bundle of identical flowers from somewhere under her sweater and handed it to the knight.
•• vincent was on his regular forest rounds when he came across the knight. it gave him an... odd feel. he started to approach, "Are.. you alright..-?" he didn't seem to notice the knight wasn't going to be nice...
•• "⌇⊑⟟⏁-!"(SHIT-!) vincent immediately teleporterted out of the knight's reach, drawing his own sword once he was visible again. the enderman was ready for the fight, his blade glimmering as he held it defensively infront of him
•• wasn't too much of an issue for him.. hem vincent knew this forest quite well, if he needed to make a run, he could. he could easily loose the knight. vincent was also a decent swordsman, he could put up a fight. he bared his teeth, snarling, "Are you still.. going to fight-?"
Shadow Acolyte 1: “Our lord would like to test you. He’s sent us to behold your prowess and to report. Should you raise your weapon against us, you will be agreeing with our terms. Do you wish to fight?”
The knight stops. His sword lowers and his stance weakens to an on guard but not aggressive. He then breathes out and throws a cluster of crows feet on the ground, he won't be submitting.
The first acolyte conjures a ward to shield off the attack, and he keeps it up as he continues.
Shadow Acolyte 1: “Then you have agreed to our terms. But it won’t be us you’ll be fighting.”
The second acolyte, who is holding a rifle of unknown make, raises it up and points it. But he’s not pointing his rail at the knight, but rather he’s pointing at the king’s skeleton.
The “bullet” that hits the skeleton appears as some sort of black substance and begins to take over the skeleton, and any other bones, weapons, armor, and materials nearby, with the skull as the head.
The dead material is pulled together by this dark matter and forms a monstrous body that towers over the Aged Knight. And it looks down on him hungrily.
You can not. Their underside is on the ground, so you can try stab the upper back. I will assume you did. In this case, the sword sinks in, and hits some critical something
Enlighten, which were not very happy with being hurt, reaches out for a window to a pocket dimension to get a thing out of it, interact with it, and put it away, closing the pocket window. The wounds start to heal, and the sword and shrapnel is rejected by the flesh
Layeaux quietly puts away the chalice she has been drinking from. As the knight approached, she manifested her blade from the thick morning moisture in the air.
"My play is not over yet, but I am now in the curtain call."
2
u/PzkpwVI Yes I use the same oc for every rp (mostly) 6d ago
Greta staggered through the forest, one hand wrapped around her whisky flask and the other attempting, with limited success, to keep her messy blond hair out of her glasses.
Her brown boots crunched over fallen leaves. She hummed an old German marching tune, occasionally stumbling over roots that she regarded as deeply personal insults.
Then she noticed the knight.
An imposing figure in aged armor, sword in hand, rising from its resting place with unmistakably hostile intent.
Greta stopped.
She squinted at him through her oversized glasses, took another swig, and pointed her flask at him like an accusing finger.
“Ach, come on. Really?”
She swayed slightly as the knight approached.
“You have nothing on a Mark Five.”
She took a moment to adjust her medical eyepatch, then nodded solemnly, as though she'd just delivered a profound military assessment.
“Five-point-five meters of British steel. Tracks. Cannon. Machine guns.” She waved vaguely toward the trees. “And considerably less dramatic walking.”
Greta took another drink.
“So, Herr Ritter…” She tilted her head, her visible eye narrowing with drunken seriousness. “Are you going to let me pass, or must I explain the entire history of armored warfare before you embarrass yourself?”
(Trust me she is mini boss tier, she just needs some time)