Mister C. Worthshire

Oh jesus here we go.

Joke Song

Not So Joke

Runner up- Joke

Runner Up - Not So Joke (2)

Michael Colm was exhausted.  New laws regarding the Realty within the city was taxing to say the least, bureaucracy at its most potent- and most useless.  The new license prices were infeasible, and he dreaded the next morning where he would have to tell his wife that his business would need to be sold.  The streets were devoid of people- expected when they were kept at an unreasonable hour, but it was nice to be able to walk without bumping into a refugee, an urchin, or someone trying to make a cheap silver in a bad con.

Stepping up to the door to his shop, the keys rattled against the oak and he’d push it open with a yawn, rubbing his face as he adjusted the level of the oil lamp.  Setting down the briefcase and hanging the cloak up, he paused when he looked through the reflection of the small mirror placed against the wall.  

A well-dressed man with a cold stare sat in the chair, Michael Colm’s newborn child resting lightly in his lap.  Michael whipped around, fumbling to try and reach for his gun, however the man’s voice rang out.

Selection: His gaze snaps to seemingly look in the eyes of the selector, before offering a smirk.

Class: Rogue

Weapons: Two pistols, a Garrote, Three specialized blades

AI Behavior:  He will stealth and go further ahead, taking down minor and moderate enemies to clear a path.  Up to 4 enemies can be slain before he must return.

In combat, he is vicious and does not hold any regard for his opponent’s life.  He is not swayed by pleading or begging, and will dispatch individuals who surrender in a specialized cutscene.

Party’s ability to persuade and bribe individuals is strongly buffed.  Intimidation is moderately buffed.

HE WILL KILL THE MOST CUMBERSOME OF THE PARTY.  That means, if one character is increasingly making things hard for the group, they will be attacked.

[Battle Music]

Battle Lines:

"Absolutely inexcusable.” - Usually a finisher, when he’s dispatched them rather quickly.

“Your form leaves much to be desired.”

"Is that it?”

"It would have been easier to simply step aside.”

Cooldowns

"I’ve had just about enough of these games.”  It can usually be heard, coupled with the sound of tearing clothes and a lupine snarl.

The sound of two clips being put in place and then a hail of pistol fire.  

“It looks like your neckline needs a trim.”  If he is behind a boss, he will pull his garrote and effectively silence/interrupt them, as well as stun them for up to 30 seconds as he strangles the life out of them.

KO:

"This wasn’t according to plan.”

“This is what happens when I don’t vet the hiring party.”

Resurrected:

"At least you know how to do something correct.” -Used when his death could have been avoided.

"Well, at least the suit repairs won’t be strenuous.”

Tagged By: @bbygurlnia 

Allegretto - Pristine.  Poised.  Premeditated.  The footsteps were cat-like, quiet in ever manner, predatory in every manner.  The spider silk and steel wire was pulled taut betwixt gloved fingertips.  His grip on the ironwood handle was so tight he could feel his pulse.  Two steps.  Three more.  He was behind him now.  His hands lifted and twisted in a violent motion.  He heard the man’s wheeze, and the intimacy of their closeness would have been romantic if it weren’t so tragic.  He smelled nice, of roses.  He was well dressed as well.  The man struggled, then silence.  

Gangster’s Paradise - His father stood before him, dressed in his finest suit- he recognized it from their time in Gilneas.  Still well-pressed despite it all, albeit a bit older.  Connor’s fingers tightened around the grip of his pistol, his hand hidden by the suit jacket.  His father held the same stance, a smirk upon his lips.  With a dip of his head, they bowed in unison and drew their firearms.  Another dance, a different victor.

Confess - The confessional was quiet, dark, the cedar was stained dark with the lacquer used.  The priest that sat down on the other side of the sliding frame.  His expression remained serene, however, his knowledge of the crimes the man had committed boiled deep in his core.  “What is your confession, my child?”  His hand slipped upon the stiletto inside his suit jacket, drawing it quietly from the scabbard.  He anchored his hand against one of the embossed openings of the wall, driving it forward and up.  The bishop always leaned into the wall, and it was his death tonight.  “I came to kill a pimp.”

Lone Digger - The drink splashed, the blade was drawn, but Connor was like lightning.  Swinging his hand up to block the arm holding the blade with his forearm, he’d bare his teeth and swing his free hand to smash into the man’s face.  The assailant fell back, toppling over the table, and the tailor lifted his hands to adjust his jacket before his friend attempted to kick him.  He twirled around on a heel, offering a swift backhand.  He’d lick the inside of his cheek, tilting his head.  “That was bad form.”

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