OP
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- #61
Re: Takimaru Test Thread
Status:
"You'd do well to avoid it," Denth shot back with a scowl when the white-haired vixen commented on the craftsmanship of his weapon. An extra notch of frustration was evident in his expression as he walked around to a more open area, adding more emphasis to the power of his strokes with each rotation, a sharp noise echoing from his blade cutting the air. He managed to ignore the wound from earlier, for the most part, instead trying his best to remained focused on the enemy before him.
"And while I am no expert at determining heritage, I am not so foolish as to assume you some ordinary wench. The fact that you remain unscathed up until now is testament to that. Your Mulweissen Form is formidable indeed, even among other practitioners of the art. But that's as far as my flattery goes," he growled. "There is only so much you can predict, and that is useless in the face of pure speed." Following his exclamation, Denth began to flail his serpentine blade in a wide loop above his head, then with one final swing, sent its pronged tip and serrated edges speeding horizontally towards Isolda's neck from the side. It looked to be a rather straightforward attack, one that prioritized speed as he suggested.
Regardless, in her heightened state, the Voidic beauty's could still just manage to duck under it in order to finish her opponent off by closing the distance afterwards. But that was merely a lesson in deceit, even for one as accustomed to it as Isolda. Its initial trajectory changed sharply and unexpectedly with a sudden twist of the pierced man's wrist. The blade curved downwards, faster than seemed natural, as Denth skillfully manipulated his tool to come low towards Isolda's knees. It wrapped around her lower leg, quickly locking onto itself tightly thanks to its jagged edges, which in turn dug into the swordswoman's calf, drawing a bit of blood as it cut through her boot. Upon witnessing the success of his attack, Denth flashed a cruel grin.
"And now you're mine," he commented, before pulling back in one motion, across to his other shoulder, so as to leave her prone and helpless by yanking her footing out from under her.
It didn't happen.
Though the pain of the whip-sword's teeth digging into her flesh was sharp, it wasn't unbearable. It was nothing, really, compared to the hardship Isolda faced in the past, knee-deep in the biting snow of the unforgiving Gremic winter. Through her father's Hardtslag Tradition she had learned to fight not only other opponents, but the elements themselves, blocking out the inconvenience of pain and learning to stay solid, stay focused, like an immovable rock. After all, it took immense amount of concentration and focus to maintain the burning spell upon one's blade while wielding it, and the toughness associated with the style served as a foundation upon which the structure of its techniques could be built. To Isolda, this was nothing.
The look on Denth's face that followed upon realizing the futility of his attempt was simply unforgettable. Shock, disbelief, panic--his features soon screamed where he could not. Another pull upon the hilt of his blade and again, the white-haired woman wouldn't budge. "Shit... shit! Shit! Why--ughh!" The Black Hepta member grimaced as a hurled chair flew in his direction, only to shatter against his free arm, which was instinctively raised in defense. It was too late by then, as the distraction bought Isolda all the time she needed, diving in at him quickly. Now, at this distance, there was too much slack on the weapon for him to use properly... and she was right in range. Denth had realized the clues far too late. The charred gash upon his body, one that he chose to ignore, told him the origin of Isolda's other style as she closed in on him, her blade igniting right before contact.
"H... Hardtslag?!"
Isolda's fiery slash, boosted in power by the addition of her second hand to the hilt of her blade, cleanly separated Denth's arm from the rest of his body, causing his weapon to drop along with it. He cried out in pain, the wound cauterized for the most part. "AAAAAAAAAAAGGGHHH! Gyaaaaah! Y-You... bitch!"
For the next few seconds, his screams of agony would fill the blood-soaked establishment as Sorio and Renan looked on, watching the well-dressed thug roll about on the floor. It was another minute or so before his exclamations died down to a near constant whimper. "H-How..."
Status:
Isolda: HP = 67, PP = 41, EP = 18/36, Status = Aspect of Spirit activated (X = 5)
Denth's Sweep vs. Isolda (during the round her Full Defense is activated):
Attack Roll: Success
Damage:
(Denth rolled a 1, 2) + 32 = 35 - 12 = 23 damage.
Resistance Check:
Isolda wins, and avoids being knocked Prone.
Isolda's Attack vs. Denth:
Attack Roll: Success
Damage:
(Isolda rolled an 8, 3) + 60 - 5 = 66. Denth is down.
9 EXP gained total.
Denth dropped his weapon:
One Handed Sword-Whip (Urumi) "Serpentinus": Deals 2d8 + 2 + Body/2 damage. Enables use of Sweep, provided the skill is learned by the user.
Denth's Sweep vs. Isolda (during the round her Full Defense is activated):
Attack Roll: Success
Damage:
(Denth rolled a 1, 2) + 32 = 35 - 12 = 23 damage.
Resistance Check:
Isolda wins, and avoids being knocked Prone.
Isolda's Attack vs. Denth:
Attack Roll: Success
Damage:
(Isolda rolled an 8, 3) + 60 - 5 = 66. Denth is down.
9 EXP gained total.
Denth dropped his weapon:
One Handed Sword-Whip (Urumi) "Serpentinus": Deals 2d8 + 2 + Body/2 damage. Enables use of Sweep, provided the skill is learned by the user.
"You'd do well to avoid it," Denth shot back with a scowl when the white-haired vixen commented on the craftsmanship of his weapon. An extra notch of frustration was evident in his expression as he walked around to a more open area, adding more emphasis to the power of his strokes with each rotation, a sharp noise echoing from his blade cutting the air. He managed to ignore the wound from earlier, for the most part, instead trying his best to remained focused on the enemy before him.
"And while I am no expert at determining heritage, I am not so foolish as to assume you some ordinary wench. The fact that you remain unscathed up until now is testament to that. Your Mulweissen Form is formidable indeed, even among other practitioners of the art. But that's as far as my flattery goes," he growled. "There is only so much you can predict, and that is useless in the face of pure speed." Following his exclamation, Denth began to flail his serpentine blade in a wide loop above his head, then with one final swing, sent its pronged tip and serrated edges speeding horizontally towards Isolda's neck from the side. It looked to be a rather straightforward attack, one that prioritized speed as he suggested.
Regardless, in her heightened state, the Voidic beauty's could still just manage to duck under it in order to finish her opponent off by closing the distance afterwards. But that was merely a lesson in deceit, even for one as accustomed to it as Isolda. Its initial trajectory changed sharply and unexpectedly with a sudden twist of the pierced man's wrist. The blade curved downwards, faster than seemed natural, as Denth skillfully manipulated his tool to come low towards Isolda's knees. It wrapped around her lower leg, quickly locking onto itself tightly thanks to its jagged edges, which in turn dug into the swordswoman's calf, drawing a bit of blood as it cut through her boot. Upon witnessing the success of his attack, Denth flashed a cruel grin.
"And now you're mine," he commented, before pulling back in one motion, across to his other shoulder, so as to leave her prone and helpless by yanking her footing out from under her.
It didn't happen.
Though the pain of the whip-sword's teeth digging into her flesh was sharp, it wasn't unbearable. It was nothing, really, compared to the hardship Isolda faced in the past, knee-deep in the biting snow of the unforgiving Gremic winter. Through her father's Hardtslag Tradition she had learned to fight not only other opponents, but the elements themselves, blocking out the inconvenience of pain and learning to stay solid, stay focused, like an immovable rock. After all, it took immense amount of concentration and focus to maintain the burning spell upon one's blade while wielding it, and the toughness associated with the style served as a foundation upon which the structure of its techniques could be built. To Isolda, this was nothing.
The look on Denth's face that followed upon realizing the futility of his attempt was simply unforgettable. Shock, disbelief, panic--his features soon screamed where he could not. Another pull upon the hilt of his blade and again, the white-haired woman wouldn't budge. "Shit... shit! Shit! Why--ughh!" The Black Hepta member grimaced as a hurled chair flew in his direction, only to shatter against his free arm, which was instinctively raised in defense. It was too late by then, as the distraction bought Isolda all the time she needed, diving in at him quickly. Now, at this distance, there was too much slack on the weapon for him to use properly... and she was right in range. Denth had realized the clues far too late. The charred gash upon his body, one that he chose to ignore, told him the origin of Isolda's other style as she closed in on him, her blade igniting right before contact.
"H... Hardtslag?!"
Isolda's fiery slash, boosted in power by the addition of her second hand to the hilt of her blade, cleanly separated Denth's arm from the rest of his body, causing his weapon to drop along with it. He cried out in pain, the wound cauterized for the most part. "AAAAAAAAAAAGGGHHH! Gyaaaaah! Y-You... bitch!"
For the next few seconds, his screams of agony would fill the blood-soaked establishment as Sorio and Renan looked on, watching the well-dressed thug roll about on the floor. It was another minute or so before his exclamations died down to a near constant whimper. "H-How..."
