Description
Name: Longfang of Eshin Clan
Age: 23
Race: Skaven
Occupation: Assassin
Height: 5'5"
Weight: 151lbs
Eye Color: Poisonous Green
Fur Color: Dark Brown
Build: Lean, Wiry
Personality
Most Skaven are either twitchy, nervous, or high strung. Longfang is high strung, a belligerent little demon who's just as likely to look you in the eye as stab you through it. It earns him a lot of trouble, but even the greatest of mockers stare in disbelief as he takes on bigger enemies with just as much, if not more, ferocity than they have. Argumentative and prone to playing stupid, this Skaven in nonetheless one of the longest living assassins of Elshin clan. He's cunning, intelligent, and utterly ruthless. An odd trait of his is he often tries to tell jokes, though they often come out as unintelligible.
As Longfang describes himself:
"Longfang is rat-rat. Sneak-knife, but rat. Don't mess-play with Longfang. Knife-stab-cut you."
Equipment
Longfang, as a Skaven, is very, very quick on his feet. Agile, prone to stealth, and as an assassin nearly impossible to knock off balance, the Skaven is a nightmare in hand to hand combat. He also has the natural weapons of his claws on both hands and feet, his tail, far stronger and more dexterous than it looks, and of course his teeth. His namesake. He is armed with blades, poison, and alchemical explosives, the tools of his trade.
Three Shadows
Longfang's name for his triplet of knives, each one is of mithril with a sharp of warpstone in the core. Very difficult to break, the stone within makes their blades all the more dangerous, as even the lightest appearing of strokes could sever arms, rip away legs, sunder the head from the body. He seems to poison them at random, with one of his collection of malevolent, lethal toxins. Most surprisingly however, is his method of wielding them. Two in either hand, with cord that can connect with bangles on his wrists, and one held in the twisting grip of his tail. With his spinning and flipping fighting style, this gives him an almost complete all directional ability to kill.
Rattusk
In addition to his knives, Longfang also carries a two handed sword. This is constructed of obsidian with the warpstone embedded in the hilt, styled after a katana but rougher, with a more jagged edge. The stone transfers the ability of indestructability, trapping impacts within the sword's glass to grant it more strength the next time it strikes.
Poisons and Explosives
Longfang brews his own poisons and cooks his own explosives, keeping them in pouches on his belt, behind his back. His poisons are almost all invariably lethal, but designed to prolong the torture of the victim. His explosives are nasty little devices, ranging from simple flashbangs and smokebombs to liquid incendiaries.
Warpstone
The glowing orb at Longfang's belt is a rather large warpstone. It is his sole specifically ranged weapon, though he can throw his knives much farther than use the stone. When activated, it unleashes a wave of sickly green energy that consumes the targets in the killzone, an cone that rapidly widens to 135 degrees ahead of him up to twelve feet. It recharges over time, but can only be used thrice rapidly.
So begins...
There came a scrabbling at the door, and a high pitched voice uttering a series of unintelligible curses with almost machine gun speed. After a moment the door opened, and in bolted one of the most revolting creatures to ever gain rational thought: a Skaven. Ugly as sin, the rat-man's dark brown coat was filthy, the cloak and rags it wore as clothes just as unclean and tattered almost to shreds to boot. Wickedly sharp yellowed teeth glinted in the dim light, and a pair of beady, shrewd green eyes cast an almost fevered gaze about the room. And possibly the most hideous thing about him was his size, for he was five foot five.
Longfang settled a clawed paw on one of his three curved knives, scampering across the room. He chittered as he moved, constantly jerking his head side to side as if he had a nervous tick. Reaching the counter, he hissed as he scrambled to perch atop one of the stools in a crouch.
"Food-food. Longfang need-want meat-flesh. Can pay-pay." His free, grubby little paw dived into a pouch at his belt, drawing a small handful of dirty silver coins.
Coins clattered on the counter as the Skaven seized the plate as if it were a child. Longfang cradled the loaded plate in his free arm, turning and leaping deftly across several tables, without regard if they were occupied or not. Within seconds he'd pounced into a corner booth, lurking over the food as if it were a prized treasure.
"Yum-yum, meat-flesh." Smacking his lips, those hellishly long fangs opened and scythed down on his meal, devouring it all as if ravenous. Licking his chops when finished, the rat-man lamented. "Cow-flesh not tasty-yummy as manthing-flesh-meat. Woe-sorrow on Longfang."
A regular little psycho this overgrown vermin was.
Those venomous green eyes zeroed on Zekil, lips peeling back even farther from his fangs in a snarl. For something as hideous as Longfang, the sight of his foot long front teeth was usually enough to startle most people. Whether the man knew it or not, he'd made the Skaven very, very suspicious of him.
Muttering in Queekish, the ultrafast, virtually gibberish language of Skavenkind, Longfang turned his attention his three knives. Clawed paws lovingly caressed his blades, the two at his gaunt hips bearing cables that connected to the bangles on his stick-like wrists. The third, most people thought was a back-up, not realizing his tail held the dexterity to wield it just as effectively.
"Bugs-crawlies!" The Skaven's green eyes lit up and he leaped over the table, dropping to all fours as he scurried after the little creatures. Delight radiated from the large vermin as he caught the trail of a pair of the beasts, the pair seeming to realize the danger he posed and attempting to flee. He pounced forward with dizzying speed and snatched out his front paws, claws curled inwards to impale them when he snatched them.
Hissing and writhing as mucus struck him, blinding Longfang temporarily in one eye. Yet paws slapped down, smashing the two creatures into the floor with sickening crunches. Glaring at the mangled bodies, he spat on them. "Stupid-stupid bugsies."
Then, in an even more bizarre twist, the Skaven wolfed down the two oddities, grimacing slightly. But to him, food was food.
Paws scrabbling at the door with a number of rapid-fire Queekish curses, Longfang finally managed to turn the handle and scurry in. The rat-like Skaven glared around with his toxic green eyes, nose and whiskers twitching. The size of a short man, he was as he always was...which was to say absolutely filthy. Muttering in Queekish, he scampered over to a booth.
Peering at the screen that light up the center of the table, the Skaven's surprising intelligence allowed him to puzzle out what it meant. Cautiously, he tapped one of the little buttons with one claw, hissing as the screen suddenly changed. But he began to read once more, and with painstaking slowness worked through creating an order.
Having just completed his order, a sudden light and noise gave Longfang a start, eliciting much squealing and scrabbling at the wall in a vain attempt to climb it. Narrowed eyes peered at the new-man-who-fell-from-air thing that now lay on the floor. And with the regard came an natural instinct: curiosity.
Slipping from his booth, the Skaven skittered over to the manthing and prodded it, tilting his head to the side. "Mathing dead-dead? No-curses, it breathes-lives. No manthing flesh-meat for poor-wretched Longfang."
Irritated, but still curious, the rat-man began to prod the manthing over and over again.
Ears twitching as a voice spoke those hated words, Longfang utterly freaked when the barbarian suddenly burst into motion. Uttering a high pitched squeal, he leaped back and drew both of his hand knives, chittering furiously. "Place-place called Gambit's, stupid-idiot manthing. And Longfang is Skaven-skaven, not rodent-rat! Stupid manthings-humans."
Utterly furious now, the Skaven took off like a filthy, furry missile out the door, the incomprehensible gibberish of Queekish curses in his wake.
There was a thud at the side door, before without warning the tip of a blade struck through it. A drop of blood oozed down the knife's curved tip, before it was drawn back with a sickening squelch. The noises of something eating in the alley, and then silence.
Longfang simply kicked the door open this time, his fangs bared in a furious scowl. "Fool-fool called Longfang rat-vermin! Skaven-skaven is Longfang!"
Muttering under his breath, the rat-man crept into a booth, fevered green eyes glaring around the room. Blood encrusted his muzzle, as well as one of his three knives.
The filthy creature stared blankly at Zekil for a moment, not following him. The events of the past rarely stuck in Skaven's brains for any period of time, and in his foul mood Longfang snapped at the man. "Longfang stab-kill manthing who call Longfang rat-mouse. Longfang eat-bite-tear manthing."
The Skaven burst into the bar with all his usual bluster, frantically casting wild eyes around as he chittered madly. Seeing all the people around, Longfang scrabbled with one paw wildly at one of his knives, seizing the grip like a vise. Glaring daggers, he scampered over to the bar and hopped to perch in a crouch on one of the stools.
"Food-food-food, demon-manthing! Longfang pay-pay, bring food-meat. Lots of meat-flesh." The was a manic gleam in the Skaven's eye, a promise of violence should his request be denied.
Longfang all but flung bloodied bills over the bar, spoils from his nightly hunting. Not bothering to steal away with his prize, the rat-like man lunged with his fangs, making surprisingly little mess given how viciously he attacked his food, devouring the collected slabs in barely ten seconds.
His ravenous appetite sated, the large Skaven's ears twitched, turning towards Kaliska. Hearing that hated word, the rat-man's head snapped to fix one poisonous green eye on her. "Longfang is not rat-vermin."
Hissing, he dropped from the chair, hunched forward in his rags of clothing, advancing slowly on the dog-woman with fury raging in his beady little eyes. "Longfang is Skaven-skaven. Garroter is Longfang!"
Spluttering in fury, his hands moved in blurs. Suddenly wielding a pair of curved knives, he sailed through the air at the dog-lady, the twitchy rat-man gone. Silent as the grave, he was the image of the Skaven Garroter, the most skilled of Eshin clan's assassins.
But curiously, the third knife was absent from his belt...but he gave not time to ponder this as he lashed out with one clawed foot for Kaliska's wrist.
That outstretched paw snatched back as quickly as he spied the chain fly, Longfang baring his fangs in a grin as he slashed down on her guarded arm. Aiming to force it down, two things happened simultaneously.
The first was that the Skaven's head lunged forward, those hellish yellow fangs yawning wide as he literally attempted to bite her face off, and the second was the answered mystery of the missing knife. Whistling, it whipped under his body at the woman's legs, held in the twisted grip of his long, agile tail.
By this point, Longfang's feet had struck the ground. The gun slamming into his jaw rocked his head to back, but his tail had already slunk between her legs and slammed its knife deep into the wooden floor. Twisting a tighter grip, he pulled with it.
The slim Skaven slipped down and between her legs like a greased rat, slapping the knives in his hands at either leg as he moved. He'd seen that nasty little thing in her hand, associating it with the banging-sticks the dwarves used.
The trick was staying out from in front of it. As he rolled to his feet he dived to the left, slinking into a booth out of the line of fire, the force of his leap dragging his third knife free.
Longfang's only answer was his tail flipping over the edge of the booth, flinging the knife it held at her. This intersected the chair, and the force of the impact split in half. Something blurred as it boiled around the edge of the booth and streaked for her, a hissing voice speaking.
"Who said about getting away?" Longfang had slung his knives and drawn his blade, a length of ragged obsidian as deadly as it was rough. The shard of warpstone embedded in its core made it unable to be broken, absorbing impacts into the glass.
And presently it was extending in a fiercesome lunge.
The lunge was a feint, for only one hand was upon it. Shoved to the side, Longfang spun with the motion, leveling a far more sinister object at the woman with a maniacal cackle. For clenched in his clawed paw was his greatest spoil...a whole warpstone. The little talent the Skaven possessed triggered the chaotic energies within, and it suddenly shown as bright as a star.
And unleashed a wave of roiling chaos, rending apart the very fiber of the floor and furniture caught in its path as it roared for the dog-lady.
The wave boiled past the woman, consuming itself after a few more feet. In its wake lay shattered wood twisted in impossible shapes, glass fused in glowing lumps, and scraps of miscolored metal. The stone dimming slightly, he clipped it back to his belt, snatching from a different pouch and hurtling a handful of smoke bombs into the room.
As enjoyable as this had been, it had made him hungry again. And there were easier meals out in the streets, just waiting for the knife to cull them from the herd. Amidst the confusion, Longfang slipped out.
Scrabbling for a moment at the door, Longfang chittered curses before he managed to shove the offending obstacle open. His green eyes glared about with a wild, almost feverish manner, his lips peeled back from his yellowed fangs. The Skaven was foul, from the soiled rags he wore as clothes to the distinctive odor hanging about him. Came with essentially being a man sized rat.
One paw wrapped around a knife at his side, Longfang angled towards the bar, glancing suspiciously at anyone and everyone.
Longfang eyed Dakinu with a regard that could have been described as hungry. He took in the ratman's clothing and state of grooming and waved a claw dismissively. "Rat-rat dresses like man-thing. Head-thoughts broken-scrambled-stupid."
Slinking up to the bar, the Skaven hopped onto a stool and perched there, hunching his wiry frame. Glancing at Zekil as he addressed him, he bared his fangs. And promptly shrieked at the bartender. "Meat-meat! Cow-pig-goat-man! Bring meat!"
RPG
