Skyrim!

My sneaky archer at demigod skill, equipped with a bow forged of a thousand petrified dragon dicks, fires an arrow made purely out of the fury and blood of Molag Bal. In the next room is two bandits sitting at a table and conversing when the arrow strikes the side of one of their faces, the damage rating of which is tenfold above his total health. The shot carries him from his seat and into the next room.

"BY THE EIGHT!" shouts the other one, and begins frantically running about looking for me. Considering my sneak level and bonuses, he frequently stands right in front of me without being able to see me. He crosses into the room on the other side where his torch plainly illuminates his companion, his lifeless corpse dangling from the wall like a macabre wall decoration, suspended neatly above the floor by the arrow protruding from his bloody face.

With no sign of the attacker at hand, the remaining bandit takes one final glance at his skewered companion... and sheathes his sword.

"Must have been my imagination."