“It would take more than a knife to kill me, mate. I can assure you.” Noah sighs as the man pulls away from him. It still disturbs him, the fact that he can’t feel any pain even though a blade has sunken its teeth in his shoulder, shattering the collarbone. His vest and shirts have been cut to pieces after being stabbed in the guts seven times. The assailant, a man with shaved head and thick eyebrows, stares at the knife in the lich’s shoulder. “I have this condition,” Noah says dryly, “called death. Quite nasty if you ask me.” He throws a swift jab at the throat before clocking the man with his elbow. He grapples the other down, shoving the face into the ground. That’s for ruining my favorite shirts, he thinks to himself as he pulls out the handcuffs. This man, by the name of Stephen Novak, came into the town a few months ago. Noah connected the man to the Order of Silver Flame-- the group that wants his sister dead. Well, not on his watch.
“You’re und--” before he could finish that sentence, something hits him across the face and knocks him over. Noah rolls his eyes, jumping up to his feet. Novak had a friend, of course. “Brilliant.” He pulls the knife out of the shoulder. “Two birds with one stone, why not?”
