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Gangs of Havenport (Tassadar) GMed by Takimaru


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Takimaru

Takimaru

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Re: Gangs of Havenport (Tassadar) GMed by Takimaru

Status:
Isolda: HP = 91, PP = 41, EP = 42, Status = Normal

The scowl that Isolda showed to Renan certainly would not go unnoticed, causing the Talean to grimace and quiet down immediately without further need for the swordswoman to follow up on the warning. He seemed to shrink down afterwards, allowing her to continue her conversation with the strange creatures, as well as Berthane when he arrived.

"So I am," said the old man, flashing a devious smile towards the white-haired leader of the trio. "You might have. Perhaps through some of my... connections. But the fact that you are even here means that information was successfully squeezed out of one of the others, no doubt." He looked more impressed than upset at the implication that she had likely killed another person he might have been an ally of. "You'd be correct, yes. These folk are the untouchables of Havenport. Of course, they exist in many communities, but with this being a port city, their afflictions are far more... varied, as you can see. Even the dead receive more tribute than they." Berthane spoke with a solemn, calm voice, seeming accept Isolda's sympathetic tone for what it was. "But I can tell that you are not here for them."

After hearing her request, he sighed and nodded to himself several more times. "Yes, yes. I've expected as much. Grant me a moment to bring in my haul," he said, walking past Isolda if she so allowed, in order to toss the large bag he was carrying into the darkness, where many of the mutants hurried to claim one of the many morsels within. Berthane showed absolutely no fear for the woman nor her comrades as he passed them, which served to unnerve Renan and even Sorio enough to the point where they wouldn't attempt to stab him in the back as he walked by. Isolda was free to try, however. However, apart from his cold, strange aura, she would feel no murderous intent from him at that time.

With that, he motioned for them to follow, and should she take him up on the offer, Isolda would find herself standing in a field full of withering plants and grass, a healthy distance away from the abandoned mill. They were much closer to the slums that Isolda had to pass in order to get to that area in the first place, though even the hoodlums that saw them were not keen on interfering with this transaction. Tipping his hat upward, Berthane kept the grip upon his staff strong. "You must have something against the Black Hepta, then. And I would not be one to blame you, as there are many of us who participate in less than wholesome activities within these parts. I owe Nottis a great debt, and it is why I assist him to this day with his wars on the older guilds. No matter which you choose around here, you'll find injustice, that you will. None are quite as forsaken as those dwelling in the mill, though. I feed them every now and then, to keep them from doing so upon each other. Should you kill me, they will not survive for long--and it would be a terrible loss for those who had not the chance to right their lives. Believe me, when I say that they did little to deserve the cruel fates pressed upon them."

"I am a warrior, through and through--I always have been, and always will be. Therefore you should understand if I do not allow you to slay me without resistance. Because of my lasting debt to him, I will continue to support Nottis for as long as he lives, regardless of your choice of words. I will say this, however. If you kill him first, then we need not ever cross blades... and I will, of course, cease to help him in his endeavors. But if it is I that must truly die beforehand, for whatever reason you may have, then so be it. Battle nor death are things I will shy away from." His declaration made, the man moved both hands towards the center of his staff, taking a few steps back as he awaited Isolda's answer.
 

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Re: Gangs of Havenport (Tassadar) GMed by Takimaru

Isolda's smile remained as Berthane offered her a reply, but inwardly she was starting to suspect that their act wasn't working out so well. Berthane had some other source of information, she suspected, and he simply wasn't letting on that he already knew exactly what she and the two Taleans behind her had come to the mill to do. She merely offered the old man a nod when he stated that she wasn't there to speak on the mutants waiting behind them, and allowed him to pass without going for her blade. That was when she noticed the reactions of Sorio and Renan, and her own aura touched against his. A shiver - not of fear, but of excitement - ran down Isolda's spine, and her eyes momentarily widened as a mad smile came over her expression. She'd never had anything against attacking an opponent when their back was turned, and the very part of her that had come here hungering for blood was suddenly screaming at her to strike, to slay this dangerous creature for the sheer, sadistic joy of it, and for a few heartbeats Isolda fought against that inner hunger. Fighting like a wild maniac worked fine against the unskilled, but the voidic wanderer had learned long ago that a truly skilled opponent required a clear head to beat.

Gaining control of her bloodlust once more, Isolda offered Berthane another solemn nod, ignoring the untouchables as they swarmed over the food and keeping her eyes on the man she'd come here to kill. The beast in her still hungered, but Berthane's coolness had been sufficient to unnerve Sorio, something that not even she in the height of her bloodlust back at the Ebonstone Bar had been able to accomplish. This was not a man to be trifled with.

Following Berthane out to a poorly kept field, an unusual sight in a city as large as Havenport, but despite the unusually public location of their would-be battlefield, Isolda and her comrades were left to face the old man without any apparent attempts at intervention. Her examination of their surroundings came to an end as Berthane began to speak once more, and Isolda's smile fell until just the barest tips of her lips were turned upwards, making the expression seem cold. Isolda made no attempt to interrupt, allowing him to finish without breaking eye contact at any point, and when he was done it was her turn to speak. She began with a hint of amusement; "I take it that butler from the Ebonstone went straight to some other member of the Black Hepta then? That's.... Slightly disappointing. One would think he'd have at least a little bit of survival instinct buried underneath the practice subservience. Still, I suppose it makes the meet-and-greets for the rest of them a little bit simpler, doesn't it? Truth be told, I don't have anything in particular against the Black Hepta, at least no more than I do against any other bunch of scum. You just drew the short straw, and I decided that it might be a whole lot of fun to hunt down and kill the lot of you!"

Finally fighting down the manic glee that threatened to rise at the prospect of fighting, Isolda allowed her smile to fade fully from her face. "Now, I've got no real quarrel with you in particular," she began more seriously, "You actually seem like a fairly decent person. I've been around a bit, and I've seen what happens to people like them. I'm neither noble nor caring enough to say that I'd take up your position in helping them either, so you're probably right in saying that if I killed you, I'd be killing them. The most that I could offer is that I'd go in and see that they didn't suffer without you, but I doubt that that's really any comfort. Now, I don't know what debt Nottis has over you, but I'm guessing from what you've just said that you'd rather not worry about it anymore."

Isolda paused momentarily, raising a single pale eyebrow at Berthane as if asking if her assumption was correct. So far, the man had seemed like a kindred spirit to her in many ways, though not in all of them. Isolda was far from possessed of the same sense of morality, as she'd never have gone so far out of her way to help the mutants in the manner that Berthane did... Or at least she didn't think that she would. It was another odd thing to consider. One thing that she was fairly sure of, however, was that she didn't have the man's sense of honor; she'd take a better offer in a heartbeat if she actually thought it was genuine. "If you want to not die and to get out from under Nottis, then I'm going to need information!" she began again after he'd given what reply he would to her implied question, "While it's entirely possible that everything you've done and said up until this point is a lie, and that if I let you live you'll just go right back to your friends and tell them all about me, your death doesn't have to come now. I like to keep an open mind about new people for a while, and really I'm not in any kind of hurry to get this done anyway! I just need to know more about the rest of the Black Hepta, and about Nottis in particular. You've likely heard of what I did to Denth if you didn't go and see it yourself, so you've probably got an idea of what I'm going to do to the rest of your scumbag associates. If possible, I'd like to avoid any surprises."
 
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Takimaru

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Re: Gangs of Havenport (Tassadar) GMed by Takimaru

Status:
Isolda: HP = 91, PP = 41, EP = 42, Status = Normal

At the mention of the butler, Berthane raised a brow, responding to Isolda's inquiry with a genuinely confused look. "Butler? Ah, the Ebonstone. So it was Denth you fought, then. Hoooh... I did warn him that immersing himself in such pleasures would dull his skills. That, or it simply speaks volumes about the level of your own." He eyed her sword, resting in its sheath, taking mental notes of its properties.

"As for scum, well, Havenport is no gathering place for heroes. There are what you call 'scum', and then there are the dead, the enslaved, or the ones paying 'protection money' for what could hardly count as such. At least, when it comes to those that stay here for long," explained the elderly swordsman.

Renan automatically frowned at this. After all, it was difficult to imagine someone a duo as strong as Sorio and himself having to raise money to pay such ridiculous 'debts' to gangs such as the Hepta, and yet there they were. The gangsters had numbers on their side, which proved to be little of a problem for Isolda, but what could they have that would bind someone as formidable as Berthane to their cause? A debt alone? Surely, it had to be more than that.

"That butler you mentioned, a servant of Denth's I presume, stays loyal to the gang not in spite of his survival instinct, but because of it, you see. He knows that there will always be someone to replace his former master, so long as Nottis lives--and more importantly, that the Black Hepta will not die so easily. Even I, strong as I am, realize that I'd not last here for any extended amount of time without my ties to the Black Hepta being public. Amongst the gangs here, they are one of the stronger entities, in spite of their relatively small roster. The reason for this remains the otherworldly might of our leader alone. He slew two guilds in one night. The corpses still linger in their original guildhouses, bloody and mangled as a warning to all. Those who survive, serve him as I do."

He went on. "It is not so much that I wish to be rid of these associations. They carry a great deal of privilege, as well as responsibility, along with them, as I have explained. I place such stakes knowing that you cannot defeat Nottis the One-Hander--and if by some miracle you can, I would have no choice but to respect your strength, as I do his. I can tell you where he is, but by the time he is finished with you, I'm certain that we will see each other as allies within the Black Hepta the next time we cross paths. That, or we will never meet again, should he choose not to show you as much mercy as he did to me." The man's tone was ominous towards the end of his bold warning, and it wasn't hard to figure that he was dead serious about it.

"While you may consider it a betrayal on my part to disclose his location for you, I'm sure Nottis would not particularly mind being paid a visit by... one such as yourself," added Berthane, managing a slightly uncharacteristic grin. "Knowing him, I'm sure your victory over Denth would serve as a point of interest, rather than fear. We haven't had such a beauty within our ranks since Alona joined, and he is a lustful man. At any rate... the west port is where he tends to dwell--warehouse six. Outside of him and myself, only two others have permanent establishments. The first is Alona, in the Silver Quarters, and other is Denth, who I assume you have already killed. However, that is all I will tell you willingly."
 
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Tassadar

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Re: Gangs of Havenport (Tassadar) GMed by Takimaru

Again, Isolda raised a pale eyebrow at Berthane's words, though she offered no further comment on the butler. It would be pointless to illustrate what she intended to do to the servant when next she saw him, particularly as it would likely just sound like boasting to the no doubt experienced fighter. The tale of the Black Hepta's leader wiping out two guilds in a night drew a smirk from Isolda, as it was strangely similar to what she'd intended to do today, and it drew a quip from the swordswoman; "It's too bad you don't have a guild then, because I'd have replicated that feat today if you had! It would have sent a fairly clear message to Nottis at the very least." She paused and tilted her head curiously, "Why do you call him Nottis the One Hander? Does he only have one hand, or is that just a nickname earned by his sword style?"

Berhane's warning wasn't unheard or unheeded, as Isolda had suspected that she wouldn't be dealing with a weakling if she faced the Black Hepta's leader, but she allowed it to pass by without further comment. The time for displays of confidence was fast coming to an end, as the more Berthane spoke the more likely she thought it was that the two of them were about to come to blows. When the man offered no further information than she already had and then rather definitively declared that he wouldn't be offering her anything else to work with, Isolda let out a low sigh and took a step forward. She'd been slightly afraid of that, and for a moment she simply closed her eyes and stood before him in silence.

When she opened them again, Isolda's eyes were a solid blood red, and her voice was several octaves lower and had adopted a growl similar to what she'd had when facing Denth as she said; "I'm afraid that I'm going to need more than that. I've already said that I have no personal desire to kill you... You aren't scum like Denth and his underlings, at least not that I've seen, but my mercy doesn't extend far. If you don't care about your own life, think of the people that are going to die if you don't give me more to work with, and weigh them against the lives of those I intend to kill with what you tell me. Are the lives of the people you feed worth less to you than your childish sense of honor to scum like Nottis? It really makes very little difference to me in the long run.... You'll tell me what you know either way. The ball's in your court Berthane. What's it gonna be?"

As she spoke, Isolda's hand gripped the hilt of her sword and slowly slid it out of its sheath, and the flames that ignited along its blade were blue rather than their normal orange. The muscles in her legs were already tensed in preparation should Berthane choose to attack. She continually scanned the corners of her periphery in case someone had attempted to sneak up on them, but Isolda only devoted so much attention to that as she faced Berthane, flaming sword held in her right hand and pointed away and diagonally from him and inclined slightly towards the ground. The wanderer half expected the older man to start things off first, as she inwardly doubted that her words would have any effect on him. She likewise expected him to be a tricky opponent, given his age, but there wasn't much that she could do to prepare for that beyond what she'd already done.

Activate Aspect of Spirit, X = 6. Her Spirit Ceiling in her armor is 5, and Aspect of Spirit costs X + 1, so that's a total of 9 EP and 2 HP to activate it.
Isolda will be getting +4X Grapple and Attack, and +3X Armor. That's +24 Grapple and Attack and +18 Perception.


Nutritious Stat Block

Speed: 22 (19)
Dodge: 46 (56 when Dueling)
Armor: 0 (12)
Resistance: 25 (35 vs Mind Affecting)
Perception: 40
Stealth: 23 (17)
Grapple: 74 (101 to start a grapple)
Spirit Ceiling: 8 (5)

Dueling:
Attack: 50 (Body) + 12 (Skill with Weapon) + 3 (Berserker) - 3 (Bastard Sword penalty) + 24 (AoS) = +86

Damage: 1d12 + 1 + 25 + 2 + 3 + 1d8 = 1d12 + 1d8 + 31
 
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Takimaru

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Re: Gangs of Havenport (Tassadar) GMed by Takimaru

Status:
Isolda: HP = 89/91, PP = 41, EP = 33/42, Status = Normal, Aspect of Spirit activated

"Hmh..." The sound that the old man made in response to Isolda's initial claim was somewhere between a scoff and a laugh, though he seemed more amused than anything else. "There are several reasons he is called that. He does have both hands--one is just stronger than the other."

Berthane allowed a stretch of silence to go on afterwards, holding his ground, as if expecting her to simply leave. He wasn't so dense as to miss the hint when the white-haired wanderer revealed a more frightening visage, and his slightly widened eyes met her fiery gaze as soon as it snapped open. After a brief assessment of her new state, he allowed his expression to normalize once again, complacent with the fact that this would indeed end violently.

"Childish... no, this is not honor, but the way of life here in Havenport. Without bonds to one kind of scum or another, you won't last long--you'll see. If you kill me, the others will know soon enough. I'm actually rather surprised I didn't find out Denth had been killed earlier, but that simply means you must have defeated him no more than several hours ago. While you are... certainly unique, to say the least, please understand that to me, you are but a mere stranger. The Black Hepta is an enduring entity, here in Havenport--you, but a simple traveler, practically alone. Especially if those two foreigners are all you brought. For me, the choice is actually quite simple."

Renan growled and drew his dagger, but Berthane didn't flinch in the slightest, looking as if he had expected it. Not until the pale swordswoman revealed her own blade did the bearded man follow suit, gripping the thick, cylindrical walking staff in the middle, turning it horizontally, and pulling it into two different parts. Hidden within were two long blades, each roughly 2 inches wide and double-edged, connected to the ends he now held in either hand, previously sheaths but now handles for his newly revealed weapons. He did all of this with the utmost calmness, certain that he could deflect any attacks made in the interim. Afterwards he flipped both of them with ease, joining them together at the ends to make a double-bladed staff; a somewhat unwieldy weapon, from the looks of it, but the way Berthane slipped into stance made it evident that he had spent no small amount of time practicing with it.

"Besides, you speak as if I am to just surrender my life to you. I may be old, but I am in the Black Hepta for a reason. Should you anger me, it will be you three who will be sorry," announced the elderly swordsman, keeping his weapon at the ready. Not only did it have the apparent advantage of reach, due to being a staff, but each blade at the end was no shorter than two feet, giving him a decent cutting zone by which to actually inflict damage. However, given the way that Berthane spun it about idly, it was at mid-range that the threat seemed most prominent, though his grips occasionally changed in a manner that was difficult to read for the time being.

The smaller of the two Taleans looked to Isolda briefly, as if to ask whether she had any specific plans for dealing with this new opponent. Luckily, Berthane had not capitalized on the pale beauty's moment of focus, and she could enter battle with that same, familiar, otherworldly essence powering her every move. Sorio raised his fists as well, ready to engage should his new ally call for it.
 

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Re: Gangs of Havenport (Tassadar) GMed by Takimaru

Berthane's cryptic revelation about Nottis offered Isolda little in the way of information, but for the moment she simply allowed the matter to drop. She'd get something more useful out of him later. When he offered explanation as to his reasoning behind his loyalty, the swordswoman momentarily adopted her mad grin, being particularly amused when she was referred to as just some stranger. It was technically all true, thinking about it from his perspective, but given what she intended to do before she permanently departed from the city.... Well, it was a bemusing dichotomy between their perspectives. "Then on your head be it, Berthane..." she grumbled softly, her smile slowly vanishing as she reminded herself of the consequences of her deeds. There would be no hesitation on her part because of it, but Isolda found killing this man to be somewhat less to her taste than killing Denth had been, even if her inner demon was still screaming for his blood.

"You won't surrender your life so easily, no...." the wanderer began coldly, "But in truth.... You are already a dead man. You have been for a long while, methinks.... What does Nottis have on you? Did he spare your life? Save it, perhaps? Or are you just as needlessly self-centered as nearly everyone else I've met in this city?" She didn't mean to do more than destabilize the man by her words, as in truth Isolda freely admitted even to herself that she was likely as bad if not a great deal worse than he in the morality department. That he was as surprised as she that he didn't already know about Denth spoke well of the Hepta's ability to keep information flowing, but it also created the possibility that she wouldn't have to worry about her description being leaked to Nottis and the rest of his lieutenants quite so quickly, even if she had no intention of counting on that.

She'd observed the man's movements as they made their exchange, noting the agile manner in which he wielded the unusually shaped weapon. It had looked very unwieldy, but given his age and the experience that it had no doubt brought, Isolda was unsurprised by his grace with the double-blade. She held no illusions that he would be particularly easy prey, age or no, but the wanderer already had her strategy for dealing with that weapon worked out in her mind. It had decent range and more flexibility than one might think, at least if Berthane's skill with it gave any indication, but it had its weaknesses as well. The double ended staff and the two foot long blades on the end of it gave the weapon both impressive reach and a wide cutting arc, but if she'd wanted to it would have been easy enough for Isolda to dance at the edge of his range and come in for quick strikes, or even opt to try out Denth's unusual weapon against it, but she discounted both strategies. The former would take too long for the impatient woman, particularly given the stresses that her demonic empowerment produced upon her body, and the latter involved using a weapon that she was unfamiliar with, and that Berthane had no doubt seen employed before.

Of course, she could just as easily say to hell with it and come in swinging with all her might, ignoring the cut of her opponent's blades entirely, but that too she discounted. It was entirely possible that Berthane's style would cut her to ribbons before she could deal him enough harm to bring him down, and she didn't want to have to patch herself up after a slug match when she had a date to keep anyway. That left her with the one most obviously glaring weakness of the weapon, and the aspect of it that she intended to exploit even then; It was useless at extremely close range. Figuring out what she was going to do was easy after that, particularly given the swordswoman's clear head at the time. "We'll see who regrets it when it's over," she stated calmly as she took another step forward, and then glanced back at Sorio and Renan, "Don't interfere unless it's absolutely necessary, keep a watch out and make sure that nobody gets in the way."

The idea of simply rushing the man with the two Talean's was one that amused her, to a degree, but if Berthane fought like she thought he would, that could very well get the both of them killed before they'd even touched him, even if both of them were effective close-in fighters. She paused for another moment as she turned back to her opponent, a smile returning to her face as she switched her sword from her right hand to her left, and then opened her mouth to speak.... Just before she suddenly dashed forward and brought her blade up above her and then down in a swift, deadly stroke, the opposite direction but the same sort of move that had taken the arm off of Denth only a few hours earlier.

It was a feint. She wanted him to put his blade-staff either perpendicular or parallel to the ground, either way to get its blades out of her direct path. She suspected that she'd take a hit of some sort in return, but Isolda was willing to accept that so long as the next part of her plot succeeded. When his weapon was in prime position, either held in front of him or out to the side, Isolda suddenly darted in, moving as quickly as a lightning bolt as she heaved herself forward and reached out with her free hand, attempting to seize Berthane by the throat. If she succeeded, Isolda yanked herself forward until she was literally nose to nose with the old man, and just as she'd done with Denth, adopting a slightly sensual undertone to her attack as she stepped forward and curled a leg around his, moving to solidify her hold and keep him from simply stepping away. The wanderer's nearly superhuman strength was surely enough to keep him from being able to pull away, and if she had him as securely as she liked by the time her move was done, Isolda would speak in a quiet, throaty purr; "Gotcha~"

Pay her 3 EP upkeep and try to grapple Berthane, giving her a 101 to hit bonus and then a 74 effective grapple.


Nutritious Stat Block

Speed: 22 (19)
Dodge: 46 (56 when Dueling)
Armor: 0 (12)
Resistance: 25 (35 vs Mind Affecting)
Perception: 40
Stealth: 23 (17)
Grapple: 74 (101 to start a grapple)
Spirit Ceiling: 8 (5)

Dueling:
Attack: 50 (Body) + 12 (Skill with Weapon) + 3 (Berserker) - 3 (Bastard Sword penalty) + 24 (AoS) = +86

Damage: 1d12 + 1 + 25 + 2 + 3 + 1d8 = 1d12 + 1d8 + 31
 
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Re: Gangs of Havenport (Tassadar) GMed by Takimaru

Status:
Isolda: HP = 89/91, PP = 41, EP = 30/42, Status = Grappled, Aspect of Spirit activated

Berthane: HP = ??, PP = ??, EP = ??, Status = Grappled

Renan: HP = 53, PP = 41, EP = 38, Status = Normal
Sorio: HP = 115, PP = 41, EP = 42, Status = Normal

Rolls:
Isolda's grapple attempt on Berthane: Success

Renan's sneak attack on Berthane: Auto hit.
Damage: Rolled a (4, 2) + 24 = 30 x 2 = 60 damage.

While grappled, Berthane enters 'riastrad', or 'warp spasm', adjusting his sheet / stats into an alternate form.

"Spared my life, he did, when it was his for the taking," answered the bearded warrior. "He allowed me not only to continue living, at his small price, but also granted me an amount of freedom that other subordinates would be envious of. After all, I have likely told you more than he would be comfortable with otherwise," added Berthane.

"I am no stranger to the bitter taste of defeat, young one... so perhaps to someone as naive as you, I may be but a walking corpse of someone who died a long time ago. But my warrior's code is different from yours. Allegiances come and go--they are ethereal. Only battle, and the opportunity to continue engaging in it, is what matters to me. So long as there is breath in my body, I live. There is no glory to be had in dying meaninglessly for a given ideal... certainly not when you lack the means to continue fighting. Dead men can accomplish no more. Besides, what is the difference between a crime lord and a king? It matters little who I serve, be it Nottis or the King of Elynsor himself. So long as I can taste battle, to live while my opponents die. I'd rather a lesson in humility at the hands of a stronger warrior than a permanent death. Had I clung to pride like a useless fool, I wouldn't have lived for nearly as long as I have."

At Isolda's command, Sorio nodded and lowered his fists for the time being, while Renan remained visibly antsy, unwilling to put his weapon away just yet. Something about the elderly swordsman unsettled the smaller Talean, and it was difficult to tell if the orders had gone through all the way, as he continued to eye Berthane intensely with suspicion. None of this mattered to the Black Hepta member, who opted to focus solely on Isolda as if the others weren't threats at all. His vigilance paid off, as the Voidic beauty's swift feint was made without further warning. Berthane took the bait, and though he reached forward a bit in making a fast, circular parry, it paid off for him, at least for a fraction of a second.

*CLANG*

One of the blades of his staff clashed against Isolda's flaming sword, forcing it down and off to the side while pinning it against the ground, though the swordswoman was able to maintain her grip with one hand. This left him free to deliver a follow-up attack with the other end, but the half-elf was already upon him by that time, managing to grab his beard, of all things, and pulling him in close before he had the opportunity to deliver his strike. "Huuu-gghh!" he grunted instinctively from the pain of being tugged in like a ragdoll from the woman's otherworldly strength.

With that, the two entered into clinch range, leaving Berthane unable to make a meaningful slash with either side of his weapon. Isolda's face hovered inches from that of the old gangster's, and she could feel him try, with all his might, to shove her off using the midsection of the staff. He was strong for his age, and so it would have worked... had it been anyone else but her. All that resulted, however, was an awkward push of just a few inches, perhaps much to the swordswoman's amusement, and to Berthane's apparent dismay, given the look in his eyes. He was still experienced enough to know that this was the last position he should be in. As he finally regained his composure, however, the sound of a blade entering flesh could be heard. But Isolda wouldn't feel pain anywhere--it wasn't her that was stabbed.

"Uuurrghghh..." groaned Berthane, turning to look at Renan, who had flanked him in an instant, delivering a stealthy thrust to his midsection. "Y... YOOU! B-Backstabbing coward...!" growled the old man accusingly, and when he did, the islander pulled the dagger out only to deliver two more brutal stabs to the area. The opportunistic attack left the swordsman bleeding profusely, and Isolda felt the resistance being mounted against her fade as Renan drew back to avoid any potential retaliation on his part. Something about it felt different, however. "S-Should not... you really should not have done that..." Berthane began to tremble, and violently so, as she held him firmly in his grasp. The spurts of blood coming from his open wounds began to quicken along with his heart rate.

It didn't look like much, other than the beginnings of a seizure perhaps. But her attention was caught when the sound of fabric tearing marked a sudden change in the man's physiology. "Hrrrhh.... hhhrrrgggghh!" His withered left arm had burst into a grotesquely muscled mockery several times its original size, and the rest of his body began to do the same. The man's body looked to be twisting, warping beneath his skin, stretching it out as the bones of his legs rotated about, effectively reversing his joints, his ankles soon following suit. Elongated bulges upon his neck grew as well, though his trapezius muscles had grown to such an extent that it was difficult to separate the head from the rest of his body at this point. Even the muffled sound of bones cracking and flesh ripping could be heard from within his frame as it strangely shifted to assume its new identity. One of his eyes bulged out almost comically as the other sunk in, while his cheeks peeled back to reveal his toothy maw and then some. His now elongated tongue lolled to the side, and even Berthane's voice made a drastic change as he spoke. No longer was there the calm, collected yet raspy voice of an aged veteran; it was replaced with only the roar of an angry, simple brute. "Gotta kill... GOTTA KILL... GOTTAAAA KIIIIILLLLLL!"

The ragged old warrior had turned into something monstrous, something that was less human and more mutant. The man of not even six feet was now, in his new form, well over nine, towering over Isolda, his weapon comically gripped in one hand, looking more like a toy to him than a staff. She found that she still gripped much of his beard in her hand, with the skin that held its roots having sunk down to the level of his belly, or what could be made of it given his twisted physique. The transformation had occurred within a matter of seconds, and while shocking, Isolda did have the initiative in terms of what to do next, although she knew she didn't have a wealth of time, seeing the black pupil of his larger eye rolling down to meet her gaze.
 
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Re: Gangs of Havenport (Tassadar) GMed by Takimaru

Isolda's smile reversed when she spotted Renan behind Berthane, and she was about to open her mouth to warn him away when the islander struck, driving his dagger into her opponent's back. "Renan!" she said angrily, her inner beast roaring in barely containable fury as the man stabbed again and again, stealing her rightly-won prey from her. Berthane's statement after being stabbed caused the wanderer to blink in surprise, and she looked down at him with a scowl.... Until his arm suddenly burst outward in a horrific transformation, going from thin and bony to inhumanly large in a matter of seconds. "The fuck!?" Isolda immediately released him and backed away at that point, holding her blade loosely in her left hand but not striking as Berthane's horrific transformation played itself out, leaving him as a hulking brute in a matter of seconds.

"Good job Renan!" she barked irritably, and though she now faced a being that was anything but non-threatening, Isolda had not even a trace of fear. Before she'd been facing a man, and a seemingly decent man at that. Now, as she stared up at the deformed beast with which she faced, the wanderer's heavily disciplined will made no opposition to the beast in her breast. Every part of her simply wanted to kill the monstrosity that Berthane had become, and though she doubted that the fight would be easy, Isolda knew that she could do it. As horrific as his transformation had been, her own voidic heritage muted its impact heavily, and she shifted into a readied stance without missing a beat once the nine foot monster was staring down at her, its staff no clutched in a single hand.

"Aim for the legs!" Isolda called to the no-doubt frightened Taleans, but then began to concentrate solely on her own actions. Facing an opponent like this, she would normally have attempted to evade it, but it was difficult to shift the manner in which her powers affected her on the fly and she doubted that she had the time to do so with the thing staring down at her. She had to work with what she had, and Isolda was quite fine with that! Shifting fully into her Hardtslag style, Isolda gripped her sword in both hands and rushed to her right, putting her on the creature's left as she seemed to take her own advice and aimed to cleanly sever one of the creatures legs with a powerful two handed swing.

It was a ruse. Before her strike even came close to connecting, Isolda stepped in and suddenly shifted her momentum, turning her sideways swing into a powerful underhanded strike that aimed to cut Berthane from hip to collar. Isolda's feet never left the ground, and the sidestep she made in the middle of her attack left her feet planted squarely. It'd be difficult to avoid a counterstrike, but the wanderer squared her shoulders and prepared to try and deflect it as much as she could.

Release grapple during transformation, as you allowed in ye shoutbox.

Switch to two-handed and swing with both hands on the blade! Use Slay! Deal all of the damage! Also, pay day upkeep and use dat defensive fighting for more Resistance!

Nutritious Stat Block

Speed: 22 (19)
Dodge: 46 (56 when Dueling) 36 from Slay
Armor: 0 (12)
Resistance: 25 (35 vs Mind Affecting) +20 to defensive things with defensive fighting
Perception: 40
Stealth: 23 (17)
Grapple: 74 (101 to start a grapple)
Spirit Ceiling: 8 (5)

Two Handed:
Attack: 50 (Body) + 12 (Skill with Weapon) + 3 (Berserker) - 3 (Bastard Sword penalty) + 24 (buff) - 20 (Slay) - 20 (defensive fighting) = +46

Damage: 1d12 + 1 + 25 + 10 + 3 + 6 + 1d8 = (1d12 + 1d8 + 45) * 2
 
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Re: Gangs of Havenport (Tassadar) GMed by Takimaru

Status:
Isolda: HP = 66/91, PP = 41, EP = 27/42, Status = Normal, Aspect of Spirit activated

Berthane: HP = ??, PP = ??, EP = ??, Status = Normal

Renan: HP = 23/53, PP = 41, EP = 38, Status = Normal
Sorio: HP = 89/115, PP = 41, EP = 42, Status = Normal

Rolls:
Attack Rolls:
Isolda's Slay vs. Berthane: Auto-Hit.
Damage:
(Rolled a 9, 2) + 45 = 56 * 2 = 112. (-30 AV) = 82.

Sorio's Shattering Blow vs. Berthane: Auto-Hit.
Damage:
(Rolled a 1) + 32 - 10 = 23 * 2 = 46. (-30 AV) = 16.

Renan's attack vs. Berthane: Auto-Hit.
Damage:
(Rolled a 4, 4) + 24 = 30 (-30 AV) = 2.

Berthane's Whirlwind vs. Isolda:
(Rolled a 54) + 20 - 10 - 4 - 8 = 52. Hits with bladethingy.
(Rolled a 25) + 20 - 10 - 4 = 31. Miss.
Damage:
(Rolled a 2, 8) + 45 - 6 - 4 - 10 = 35. (-12 AV) = 23 received total.

Berthane's Whirlwind vs. Sorio:
(Rolled a 38) + 20 - 10 - 4 - 8 = 32. Miss.
(Rolled a 74) + 20 - 10 - 4 = 80. Hits with fist.
Damage:
(Rolled a 4) + 42 - 4 - 10= 32. (-6 AV) = 26 received total.

Berthane's Whirlwind vs. Renan:
(Rolled a 9) + 20 - 10 - 4 - 8 = 7. Miss.
(Rolled a 87) + 20 - 10 - 4 = 93. Hits with fist.
Damage:
(Rolled a 2) + 42 - 4 - 10 = 30 received total.

Sorio was the first to react to Isolda's order. He darted in with fists up, chin low, and delivered the hardest straight right he possibly could, targeting the discombobulated mutant's knee joint... or whatever could pass for it, given its now unique physiology. The cracking of bone could easily be heard, and yet Berthane, or the creature he turned into, was not to go down so easily, merely staggering just long enough for the Voidic swordswoman to deliver her own upward stroke. Despite the now massive hulk's apparent rage, it still seemed to be in the middle of transforming--that, or such a form was inherently unstable, as it muscles continued to visibly warp, expanding and contracting in a less than natural way. Isolda could feel as much when her burning blade bit into Berthane's flesh. Instead of a clean slice, like the one she used to dispatch of Denth just hours earlier, she found the resistance of the mutant's flesh to be inconsistent, as if there were random bones and growths scattered about where she cut him. Her sword almost got stuck in his shoulder towards the end of the stroke, but it finally came free about a second later thanks to the woman's prodigious strength.

This triggered a howl of pain from Berthane, who immediately reacted by spinning about while flailing his limbs wildly in an unpredictable fashion, swinging fist and blade alike at his adversaries. His retaliatory attack was surprisingly swift, and though Isolda managed to slip away from his oversized arm with a quick step backwards, she was caught by the dual-bladed weapon wielded from the man's other arm as he followed through on the rotation, which cut into her side, though her armor, as well as her split-second attempt at a parry, kept the damage she sustained from being worse than it could have been.

"Huuuwwuuuh... HRRRAAAARRRGGHHH! YOU BETTER GOD DAMN SCREAM FOR ME!" cried the berserking brute as he continued to flail about. Another swing of the edged staff around barely missed the ducking Sorio, as well as Renan who had planted his dagger into Berthane's back with little results. However, something about the mutant's new form allowed his torso to twist past 360 degrees and then some, which caught the two Taleans off-guard, and the back of his fist met them both, sending the knife-wielder flying quite a distance, with Sorio landing not a dozen feet from where Isolda wound up.

"Uuugh," grunted the boxer as he struggled back to a standing position. Renan, on the other hand, could not do so as easily, proving much less sturdy than his more muscular cohort.

Taking a deep breath in through his nostrils, the pugilist huffed, his mildly confused look and furrowed brow explaining what Isolda quickly found out with this most recent discovery. Berthane, in this anger-fueled form, was hardly stable in any sense of the word. His joints could twist in practically any direction, making his offense extremely difficult to predict in a conventional sense up-close, and it could apparently throw off even the most experienced of fighters such as Sorio and Isolda. Even the mutated man's vitals were difficult to locate, given his constantly warping form. But one thing grew evident, as blood began to spurt from his freshly opened wound--while he could shift his innards around, he could not regenerate them, and the swordswoman's most recent attack had clearly done something to him. It was likely that a few more similar attacks would no doubt cripple the thing, if nothing else.
 

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Re: Gangs of Havenport (Tassadar) GMed by Takimaru

Feeling her burning blade sinking into the abominable man's flesh, Isolda felt the beast in her heart singing with exhilarated joy. As difficult as the passage was, the voidic swordswoman let out a low growl as she finally tugged her weapon free of Berthane's body. She was unsurprised to find the man still standing, but the sheer quantity of punishment he'd taken from the three of them, from the passage of her own burning blade to the punch that Sorio had used against his leg, one that she'd felt for sure had been enough to break the bones beneath the man's twisting flesh, and even the bite of Renan's dagger. He'd just shrugged off all of it in a display of pure power that was truly quite impressive even to Isolda, not that she'd ever seek to replicate such a technique for herself.

His return flailing caught her - and her allies - by surprise. She managed to duck beneath the swing of his arm, but his double-sided bladestaff caught her in the side, threatening to impale her from one side and come out the other. Tough as she was, Isolda knew that she wouldn't survive being chopped in half, and so she twisted and brought her blade to the side to block the brunt of the strike. Despite the fact that she could feel her own blood running down her side, Isolda didn't even so much as wince at the pain of the cut in her side, though she did frown slightly as she watched her two allies get flung by the strike from the man's fist. Freakish though he might be, Isolda could see that his twisting flesh wasn't healing so much as shifting, and knew that if she could get at his vulnerable insides, Berthane would go down like any other man who lost an important vital organ. His flailing was wild and his blows powerful, but she had managed to avoid one and was confident that she'd be able to withstand another, maybe even two, even if Renan and Sorio most likely weren't so durable.

Berhane's demanding roar, ordering that she ought to scream, drew quite the opposite reaction from Isolda. As she prepared her next swing, the wanderer began to laugh, starting off at a controlled rate but quickly developing into hysterics no less mad than the shouts of the monstrous man. Still holding her blade in both hands, Isolda silently dispelled the energies she'd used to empower herself to better grab and hold her opponent. Neither was useful to her in the situation. Wild and unpredictable as he was, Berthane was essentially a brick, and so long as he wasn't actively trying to avoid their strikes, she'd have little trouble in chopping away at him. It was like felling a tree, in a way, and she took to it with the same sort of motion as she would to bring down a mighty Gremic oak. Where he was unpredictable, she was being relatively predictable, though she was confident that she'd hit him anyway, and if it came down to a battle of attrition Isolda would have to bet on herself. It wasn't like she had a better option right now anyway, as she'd seen that Renan and Sorio were no match for the hideous monstrosity that Berthane had become on their own. She just needed to clip a lung or his heart with her next swing, which she aimed at his abdomen in a sideways swing in order to get through as much flesh as possible, and it'd be over.

Swing with both hands on the blade using Slay! Deal more of the damage! Also use defensive fighting for more Dodge and drop Aspect of Spirit. Lets hope she (and maybe dem NPCs) survive until next round! Or that Berthane doesn't. Both would be great.

Nutritious Stat Block

Speed: 22 (19)
Dodge: 46 (56 when Dueling) 51 after Slay and defensive fighting
Armor: 0 (12)
Resistance: 25 (35 vs Mind Affecting)
Perception: 22
Stealth: 23 (17)
Grapple: 50
Spirit Ceiling: 8 (5)

Two Handed:
Attack: 50 (Body) + 12 (Skill with Weapon) + 3 (Berserker) - 3 (Bastard Sword penalty) - 20 (Slay) - 15 (defensive fighting) = +27

Damage: 1d12 + 1 + 25 + 10 + 3 + 6 + 1d8 = (1d12 + 1d8 + 45) * 2
 
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Re: Gangs of Havenport (Tassadar) GMed by Takimaru

Status:
Isolda: HP = 66/91, PP = 41, EP = 27/42, Status = Normal

Berthane: HP = ??, PP = ??, EP = ??, Status = Enraged

Renan: HP = 23/53, PP = 41, EP = 38, Status = Normal
Sorio: HP = 89/115, PP = 41, EP = 42, Status = Normal

Rolls:
Berthane enters a rage, adding +10 to attack, grapple and damage. +4 AV. All attacks now automatically hit him.

Isolda's Slay vs. Berthane: Hit.
Damage:
(Rolled a 10, 5) + 45 = 60 * 2 = 120. (-34 AV) = 86.

Sorio's Shattering Blow vs. Berthane: Hit.
Damage:
(Rolled an 8) + 32 - 10 = 30 * 2 = 60. (-34 AV) = 26.

Berthane executes Whirlwind + Slay for double damage with additional to-hit penalties.

Berthane's enraged Slaywind vs. Isolda:
(Rolled a 61) + 20 - 20 - 4 - 8 = 49. Miss.
(Rolled a 11) + 20 - 20 - 4 = 7. Miss.

Berthane's enraged Slaywind vs. Sorio:
(Rolled a 80) + 20 - 20 - 4 - 8 = 68. Miss.
(Rolled a 64) + 20 - 20 - 4 = 60. Miss.

Berthane's enraged Slaywind vs. Renan:
(Rolled a 6) + 20 - 20 - 4 - 8 = -6 or zero or whatever it defaults to. Miss.
(Rolled a 55) + 20 - 20 - 4 = 51. Miss.


Heaving breaths that could likely be heard down the block from where they were, Berthane paused in a rare moment of clarity, or what looked like it, to inspect the fresh wound that was inflicted upon him. The gash had opened up quite a bit, and within, Isolda could spot several organs already damaged. His body had already begun working to re-arrange these, and for a fraction of a second, she could spot his heart, or what looked like it. But despite the terrible harm already done to the hulk, he wasn't to be deterred that easily, and looked back up at Isolda with renewed rage upon his already distorted face. An inhuman howl erupted from his frame, and he lifted both arms high before slamming them on the ground in unison, causing the ground to quake momentarily beneath Isolda's feet. Even Sorio couldn't help but to re-adjust his footing from the sudden change. Berthane's skin began to turn a shade of beet red as foam began to spew from his opened maw, the humongous muscles in his body gathering into his arms and legs. "MORE... POWER... MOOOOOOOOOOORE!" As his fury rose to the next level, the mutant set his sights on Isolda and Sorio, intent on smashing them into the ground. With that, he charged forward, fists clenched tightly.

*THUD* *THUD* *THUD*

The sounds of his footfalls continued to shake the ground as he ran towards them at full speed, giving the party little time to react. Something about his renewed rage actually made him more predictable as his attacks came straight from the side, directly at Sorio and then Isolda, in that order. The boxer felt a graze upon the top of his hair as the bladed weapon just barely passed over his head, thanks to his timely duck, and managed to slip past the ogre-like man's oversized fist completely, swinging yet another hook to Berthane's leg afterwards. Sorio's attack hit its mark, causing the sickening crunch of bone to be heard yet again, and the mutant wobbled in place as a result, struggling to keep his footing. Berthane roared while sending one, then another arm thrashing in Isolda's direction. As she closed in, the swordswoman could feel the force of the wind accompanying such fierce blows brush past her face as she managed to dodge her opponent's mighty backhand, parrying the blade that was to follow. She knew that he would make another full rotation, given his momentum. Taking full advantage of the window of opportunity that resulted, she shifted her body weight into a powerful horizontal slash that, based on the degree of resistance felt, proved to be a good, clean cut, following through all the way. Whatever she did hit inside, it was likely all organs.

As she did so, she could see Renan, still wheezing from the force of the last attack, running as fast as his body would let him go towards Berthane's flank, where his own dagger was embedded. Grabbing ahold of its handle, he managed to yank it out just in time to avoid the mutant's blind swings, but wasn't able to land a counterattack of his own in the meanwhile. "Uwah!" cried the islander as Berthane's double-bladed staff came speeding past him. By the time Isolda was able to create additional distance, her cohorts had luckily managed to do the same, leaving the brute even more frustrated from its missed attempts at creating the bloodshed it sought. It was no secret by this point that the hulk was growing weary from his failed tries at turning this battle into a brawl, one that he would surely win had Isolda and the others obliged him, given the discrepancy of strength.

Then again, denying him just that was a trademark of her mother's Mulweissen Form; a teaching of the very cerebral sword school to adapt to adversaries appropriately. When the opponent angrily sought to exchange blows, swordsmen were instructed to angle out and pick them apart. To play the opponent's game was to inevitably lose, or so it was said amongst subscribers of Mulweissen. Practitioners of the style were known to be cold, methodical, even somewhat sadistic in the way they fought. Though to them, there was nothing cruel about it; these were merely necessary steps towards the goal of victory. In hindsight, it was perfect for dealing with an opponent like the enraged Berthane. While he didn't look to be feeling anymore pain at this point, his body did have its own limits, and they were showing. Two wide gashes continued to bleed upon his body while both legs struggled to support his massive weight through continuous rearranging of the bone and sinew within. While Berthane's power was undoubtedly something to respect, it had grown pretty clear that it wouldn't take much to end this.
 
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Tassadar

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Re: Gangs of Havenport (Tassadar) GMed by Takimaru

"No more~" Isolda crooned sadistically as Berthane flew into a blind rage, his entire body turning red and foam spewing from his mouth. "No more for you~ No more power for you, it's all pointless!" she shouted, goading the beast-like man on and all but inviting him to strike at her. Sliding back into the hybrid between Hardstlag and Mulweissen that she'd created, Isolda easily avoided the wild strikes that Berthane sent her way, ducking beneath his swinging fist and deflecting his bladestaff with a quick twist of her own sword that never allowed him to pit his strength directly against hers. "Come on you ugly, pathetic, freak! Stop trying to hit me and hit me! I bet I'd go down in one from you~" she shouted, egging the hideous creature on.

Her inner beast was singing like never before at the danger, and at the challenge offered by Berthane's monstrous form. The blood running down her side was nothing compared to the exhilaration that was flooding through her body, and the pain was trivial to ignore with the adrenaline of combat pumping through her system. Isolda had seen her opponents heart amidst the other twisting, torn innards that she'd been able to glimpse after her last hit on Berthane, and she knew that if she could hit that then the battle would be over in her favor. She almost didn't want it to end, this feeling, but the rational part of her, the disciplined part, knew that the longer this went on the greater the risk was that she'd be seriously injured or killed. Berthane was a genuine threat, and she was going to end it as soon as she could.

He wanted to turn the fight into a brawl, a style that Isolda admitted freely she had no chance of winning against the freakish monstrosity. She wasn't going to let that happen. She could see his body starting to fail under the barrage of pain he'd taken, see his legs about to buckle and his wounds trying and failing to close. She knew that she'd hit something important last time, something that could kill him eventually... But eventually wasn't fast enough. His heart was somewhere in there, but at the same time, the wanderer knew that there was an organ that Berthane couldn't move so easily, no matter how he twisted the rest of his body around. Even so, she still wanted an opportunity to question the man, and decapitating him wouldn't exactly provide that opportunity.

"Time to end this!" she declared, and then Isolda rushed in one again. He had likely moved her target in the meantime, but he couldn't have moved it far, and there were only a few places left even in his bulky body that would leave it hidden. She picked the most protected of those and leaped, jumping into Berthane's side and landing sword first, with her feet following. For a lone heartbeat she hung there, her sword embedded into Berthane's side almost to the hilt while its flaming enchantments ensuring that even he felt it. In that time, she waited and listened, searching for the sound of her target, and then Isolda began to slide down, her weight and the pull of her arms dragging her blade through bone and muscle until she'd cut a solid two feet, at which point she pushed lightly with her legs and levered her sword downwards by its hilt. The moment rotated the blade upwards, through more flesh (and hopefully through the organ that she sought) until it came out the other side, at which point she dropped to the ground and quickly rolled away before spinning back to witness the effects of her handiwork, not so much doubting her attack's deadliness as taking precautions in case she'd miscalculated.

Swing with both hands on the blade using Slay! Deal more of the damage! Also use defensive fighting for more Dodge and drop Aspect of Spirit.

Nutritious Stat Block

Speed: 22 (19)
Dodge: 46 (56 when Dueling) 56 after Slay and defensive fighting
Armor: 0 (12)
Resistance: 25 (35 vs Mind Affecting)
Perception: 22
Stealth: 23 (17)
Grapple: 50
Spirit Ceiling: 8 (5)

Two Handed:
Attack: 50 (Body) + 12 (Skill with Weapon) + 3 (Berserker) - 3 (Bastard Sword penalty) - 20 (Slay) - 20 (defensive fighting) = +22

Damage: 1d12 + 1 + 25 + 10 + 3 + 6 + 1d8 = (1d12 + 1d8 + 45) * 2
 
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Re: Gangs of Havenport (Tassadar) GMed by Takimaru

Status:
Isolda: HP = 66/91, PP = 41, EP = 27/42, Status = Normal

Berthane: HP = ??, PP = ??, EP = ??, Status = Enraged

Renan: HP = 23/53, PP = 41, EP = 38, Status = Normal
Sorio: HP = 89/115, PP = 41, EP = 42, Status = Normal

Rolls:
Isolda's Slay vs. Berthane: Hit.
Damage:
(Rolled a 6, 7) + 45 = 58 * 2 = 116. (-34 AV) = 82.

Berthane is down.

For all of his blind rage that appeared to give Berthane the same amount of resistance to reason as it did against physical blows, he still managed to comprehend Isolda's taunts, responding to them in kind with enraged cries. "YOU CAN'T STOP ME... NOTHING CAN STOP ME! HUWWWAARGGGHH!" While Sorio and Renan were equally tempting targets, the first being a legitimate nuisance and the other perhaps perceived as easy pickings, the Voidic woman's persistent attempts at ridicule eventually proved effective in drawing the angry brute's focus towards her. His footing looked to be much less stable from before, thanks to the prizefighter's well-placed blows, and this set the stage for Isolda to deliver her final stroke. Tossing his weapon to the side, the monstrous man rushed towards the white-haired beauty, his arms spread out wide like wings only to close in on her frame in a desperate attempt to grab at her.

Unfortunately for Berthane, his simplistic and telegraphed motion robbed him of one of the advantages he had from before, which was unpredictability, leaving him with only the assets of size and strength. Isolda found it easy to slip past his hands, giving her the opening of perhaps a second or two, at his side--right where she wanted. She could feel her sword going in rather easily, though the hulk's inner workings already began to shift about inside as he flailed about, causing her to reposition onto his back with the weapon still nearly hilt-deep in his flesh. The longer it stayed inside, the worse it was for Berthane, as Isolda's focused channeling of the flames through her blade burnt away at the mutant's internal organs one after another as they rotated about. This caused the smell of burning flesh to waft through the air as the struggled continued. "I CAN TAKE IT. I'LL TAKE IT AAAAALLLLL!!" yelled Berthane, spinning about wildly and making attempts to grab onto Isolda as she rode his back.

She proved far more patient than him, waiting for the telltale pulse of his heart. At first, it felt as if he would eventually get a hold of her before she found it, but just as one of his grasping hands barely passed her by for the third time, she felt it.

*BA-DUMP*

And with that, she found it. Isolda began a deep series of skillful cuts, nicking her mark soon enough, which earned her additional screams from the furious Berthane. He bucked wildly and dove into a roll, which forced the swordswoman to separate herself from him a bit earlier than she might have liked, but the damage was already done. His blood flowed freely from the open wounds, and the berserker shifted into an awkward stumble before falling flat on his face. Sorio and Renan steered clear of him as he thrashed about, watching his movements slow down to a stop after the brute managed to roll onto his back, wheezing. Berthane's grotesque, bulging muscles began to wither, slowly, but steadily. If Isolda wished to question him at this point, she would have to be quick, as the man sped ever closer to death. Her experience told her that she had less than a minute to do her interrogation, though it was hard to be sure given the man's unstable form. "Huww... hrruugghhh... hauhh..."

7 EXP rewarded.
 
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Re: Gangs of Havenport (Tassadar) GMed by Takimaru

Isolda held her blade at the ready as she looked down at Berthane's flailing form, waiting in case he should rise to continue their battle. It soon became apparent that the mutant was done for, however, and as he rolled onto his back, the wanderer allowed her stance to relax slightly. Holding still for a moment, she left Berthane to wheeze on his back while she carefully swept her gaze across her surroundings as her eyes returned to their normal steely grey. Berthane had been a loud opponent, and even if there were no guards here it was entirely possible that they'd attracted some local attention. He hadn't left her exhausted by any means, but Isolda wasn't looking for another fight right away, at least not before she'd had a chance to examine the effects of the blow that she'd taken to her side. It didn't feel particularly serious even as the adrenaline of the battle was fading, but she'd long learned that even with her constitution it didn't hurt to be careful.

Turning back to her opponent, Isolda smiled and strode forth as the old warrior's freakishly bulging muscles began to wither before her very eyes. "I told you, didn't I Berthane?" she said softly, with neither laughter nor malice in her voice. She didn't have long to question him, but the voidic warrior's supernatural hunger compelled her to gloat at least a little, and so she smoothly continued; "I told you how it could have been, and how it would go if you turned me down. I told you that your power was going to run out. See how this works? I say something, and it happens. That sounds familiar to a man so used to power as you, doesn't it? I was hesitant to just kill you at first. You seemed like a decent enough man, feeding those untouchables..... But then you turned out just like the rest. You had your vice that you lived for.... And in the end, you and I weren't so different. You've no idea how easy it was to decide to kill you after you turned into that thing, and now you're never going to be able to fight again."

After that, she stalked over to stand beside the dying man, and gazed down at him with open contempt as she said; "You said that you acted the way you did because it was simply how things are here. It's always amused me that that's what men like you always amount to, all that your ambition ever desires - maintaining whatever status quo benefits you the most. A better person than I might talk about wanting something greater than that, or try to tell you that you should have stuck to whatever principle made you come here to feed those freaks over in the mill. They might tell you about trying to bring hope to the people in this scumpit of a city, or making the world a brighter place. You know what I say, though?" She paused and smirked down at him, "Fuck it. I'm just going to kill the lot of you and let it all fall out however it does."

She leaned down and pressed her sword against the dying warrior's throat, "Give me what I've asked for and I will ease your passing to the next life. I want information on the rest of your compatriots, particularly on Nottis. I don't want to hear any more bullshit. Give me whatever you know with what time you've got left."

After Berthane was dead, either because he'd given her what she wanted to know or because he'd passed on, Isolda straightened and flicked her blade aside, partially cleaning it of the mutant's remaining blood and gore. Her sword would need a cleaning after what it had gone through today, and she intended to find a quiet spot to check her wounds and take care of her blade before going off to meat Ciran. In the meantime, however, she turned to Renan and Sorio and said; "Are you two alright? I saw you get smacked around a little bit." If the two affirmed that they were both alright, she bent down again to check over Berthane's body for anything of use, and then took his staff and examined it. She'd taken Denth's sword, and Gursh's, and it seemed like an amusing pattern to continue in the meantime. It lacked the exotic flair of Serpentius, but Berthane's weapon was nonetheless a deadly tool, and she intended to make full use out of it if given the chance.

Loot ye corpse after interrogating it to death. Prepare to become a walking pile of pointy/sharp things.
 
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Takimaru

Takimaru

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Re: Gangs of Havenport (Tassadar) GMed by Takimaru

Status:
Isolda: HP = 66/91, PP = 41, EP = 27/42, Status = Normal

Renan: HP = 23/53, PP = 41, EP = 38, Status = Normal
Sorio: HP = 89/115, PP = 41, EP = 42, Status = Normal

As the wanderer took a quick glance around to check whether the fight had attracted any unwanted attention, she found that outside of a few odd glances in her general direction from the many homeless folk living on the edge of the nearby slums, there wasn't anything that hinted serious alarm at the situation. Not the sound of panicked yells nor hurried footsteps in any direction, at least in the immediate vicinity. Either something like this wasn't terribly common--or they just didn't care. However, the dilapidated mill standing in the distance did appear to have some commotion going on about inside in the form of whispers and shuffling noises, though nothing had emerged from it quite yet. The two Taleans hadn't noticed, either, telling Isolda that it was something only she in particular could hear with her heightened senses.

With his body slowly shrinking back to a wounded mockery of his previous form, Berthane struggled to keep his breath, his eyes wandering over to meet hers as his blood continued to soak the withering grass beneath him. As his previous faculties returned, so did his air of stoicism from before. In sharp contrast to Denth, who could do little other than scream or spit threats and the like at the Voidic woman, the veteran seemed complacent about his impending demise.

"Hahh... huuhhff... vices, you say. As... as if you were one to preach at me about such things. B-Besides... d-don't we all? T-Though, you are amazing--y-you don't even pretend to be virtuous, haha... Huuwwuuh... Huuurrrkkkk... ulggghhh! KUH!" Towards the end of his sentence, blood sputtered from his mouth, dotting his face with the excess oozing out of the corners of his lips.

"Huhahah... so this is death, is it? Urgluhh... I've... been through worse," he muttered, a faint smile forming upon his wrinkled visage. The old man was fading fast enough that the sensations of pain or pleasure were no longer effective motivators in getting him to speak. Gone was the futile struggle to survive, replaced with an odd look of acceptance, rare as it was. He spoke no more words after that, and though his gaze remained fixed on her, it became still as his heart finally stopped. Berthane was dead, leaving many of the details regarding the Black Hepta up in the air; Isolda would have to get them another way.

He had, however, divulged some information before the battle. Some of it was repeated knowledge; that a member named Alona stayed in a place called the Silver Quarters, familiar enough to Isolda as the first brothel she had stopped by in Havenport. The new details were that Nottis dwelled in 'warehouse six' of the western port, and that the other three members allegedly didn't have permanent dwellings.

Other than a bit of dirt and scratches upon his sturdy frame from the tumble he had taken, Sorio seemed unharmed for the most part, exhibiting little in his body language that would hint at an injury. That, or he was just excellent at hiding it, a common quality of any fighter worth their salt. However, a slight waving motion of his hand would confirm that he wasn't seriously injured. Renan, on the other hand, had seen much better days, still limping as he struggled to catch his breath from the severe blow dealt against him. He did manage to stand, albeit slowly, and grimacing, managed a nervous smile.

"I... did not expect that," said the slimmer of the two Taleans, sheathing his dagger with a groan before making his way to where the fallen member of the Black Hepta lay. Still, he kept a relatively safe distance away as the white-haired wanderer went to work in checking the body for any usable goods.

Berthane's clothes were tattered and bloodied from his transformation, though his hat was still intact, if his killer felt like taking it. Isolda also spotted a purse not far from his body that contained 80 gold--perhaps a modest amount compared to what Denth possessed, but enough for a traveler. The man's affinity for the wilderness became evident as the Voidic beauty combed through his belongings. In a medium leather satchel was a simple flint and striking steel for starting fires, which was useless to Isolda given her ability to form fire gates. Some hardened seedbread, meat jerky, and a tin cup was also kept inside.

Curiously enough, he carried a tiny vial of bright red liquid with him, topped with a retractable syringe of sorts. It wasn't blood, nor was it anything the swordswoman could immediately identify without an alchemist's help. The last item in the bag was a signet ring, slightly different from that of Denth's but with the same basic design, kept on a chain instead of worn.

Then, there was his weapon, a tall black staff that, as Isolda remembered, had several forms, which she figured out rather quickly. Despite Berthane's rather unkempt appearance, his armament was clearly well-made. Though the exterior had seen some daily wear and tear, the blades hidden within were properly maintained and as sharp as ever.

That was all she found, however, when the commotion from the old lumber mill began to grow louder. Sorio raised a brow while Renan frowned at this, soon looking to Isolda. "I think we might have gotten their attention..." said the islander nervously. "Should we go?" If she had them leave now, the three of them would likely be able to outrun whoever was there, given the distance between them and the building, though she could always fight if she were so inclined.

Isolda found:
80 Gold
Dual Sword Staff "Iraelia": Has three forms; a staff form, a dual swords form, and a third in which the two swords are connected at the ends to make a double-bladed polearm.
Staff Form: 2d8 + 8 + Body/2. Counts as a Two Handed Blunt Weapon.
Dual Swords Form: 2d6 + 3 + Body/2 (x2). Counts as two One Handed Swords.
Double-Bladed Polearm Form: 2d10 + 6 + Body/2. Counts as a Polearm.

Berthane's Signet Ring
Flint and striking steel
Brown, wide-brimmed hat
Seedbread and jerky
Tin cup
One small vial of mysterious red liquid w/ attached syringe (don't worry, it's covered)
 

Tassadar

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Re: Gangs of Havenport (Tassadar) GMed by Takimaru

"No you haven't!" Isolda snapped down at the dying warrior as he uttered his final words, after which she pressed her blade clean through his neck to ensure that he wasn't playing possum before flicking the blood off of it and sheathing it. It would definitely need a cleaning before bed, but that could wait a little while longer. For now, she turned to her two Talean companions and sized them up with a frown, after which she turned to Renan and scowled at him. "No, I'll bet you didn't!" she snapped, "I know that's not exactly a common occurrence, but... Come on, I had it handled up until you stabbed him in the back! That was.... Not your most graceful move my friend. I don't begrudge the assistance or that you took the initiative, but it DID nearly get all of us killed. So.... I don't know, be a little bit more careful next time!" With that business taken care of, Isolda pointed towards the mill and said; "There's a commotion over there, you two keep watch while I search him for anything useful."

As she went through Berthane's bag, Isolda pondered what she'd learned from the man who's possessions she was taking. It wasn't much. She knew where the Black Hepta's leader was now, and while she was confident in her ability to beat any man in a straight fight, Isolda knew that caution was often the better part of valor. Going in now could pit her against up to seven warriors at the skill level of Berthane and Denth, and she didn't like the look of her own odds on that fight. She'd intended to wipe out the Black Hepta, not merely decapitate them, and in so doing she'd weaken Nottis to the point that she could get her one on one fight. For now, it was back to gathering information, and given that she had knowledge on the location of one other member of the Black Hepta, Isolda decided that she'd have to take that route.

Running through Berthane's meager possessions, Isolda simply opted to take everything. She hadn't brought any survival gear of her own, and as such the flint, cup, and hardy food could be put to use when she set out from Havenport in order to pursue the contract offered to her by the alchemist. The hat she placed on her head as a souvenir - once she'd eyed it over for bugs of course. The last thing that she wanted right now was lice. The signet ring joined Denth's in her bag, and his coin purse was stored safely between her breasts. The odd medicine in the syringe brought a frown to the wanderer's face, but she wasn't one to try such things out, and placed the syringe with her other delicate possessions in her pack. Finally, she lifted his weapon and eyed it significantly. It lacked the exotic flare that Denth's fanged whip-sword had possessed, but it was nonetheless a serviceable weapon despite the wear and tear on the exterior. It didn't take long to figure out how to work the weapon, and she assembled it into its staff form and placed it through the shoulder harness of her pack so that it wouldn't get in her way if she had to fight.

Satisfied with her physical haul if not her mental one, Isolda turned toward the commotion coming from the mill and scowled at it. "No," she stated calmly following Renan's question, "You two don't have to come with me, but I told Berthane the mercy I'd give to his mutants if he faced me, and I intend to keep my word on that." Keeping her weapons all sheathed despite her grim proclamation of intent, Isolda strode towards the abandoned mill with long, steady steps and a scowl on her face.
 
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Takimaru

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Re: Gangs of Havenport (Tassadar) GMed by Takimaru

Status:
Isolda: HP = 66/91, PP = 41, EP = 27/42, Status = Normal

Renan: HP = 23/53, PP = 41, EP = 38, Status = Normal
Sorio: HP = 89/115, PP = 41, EP = 42, Status = Normal

Isolda's sword went through Berthane's neck easily with only the amount of resistance she was used to, and would find no struggle from the freshly slain mutant... or whatever he was.

Renan arrived just in time to hear the Voidic woman's sharp tone directed at him. He winced, shrinking away from her outburst with his hands raised at shoulder level, submitting to her by way of body language. "S-So sorry! I was just trying, t-to save you. He was going to change anyway... I thought I could kill him before he did, so I tried, but I failed," explained the Talean rogue with a pitiful look. He turned away with drooped shoulders like a whipped dog after she told him to keep watch, which freed the wanderer up to loot Berthane's corpse as she saw fit.

Most of his possessions were only in mildly worn shape, save for the ring, which was only slightly dirty, as well as the food of course. Upon closer inspection, she would find that his hat had no lice, only a few stray silvery hairs and a trace of the man's scent on it, which was a given for any garment or accessory that saw proper use such as it had. Everything was stowed away fairly neatly in the end, as Berthane's heaviest possession proved to be the staff.

When the white-haired warrior announced her intent, Sorio immediately moved to follow her. Renan tried to do the same with a matching amount of spirit, but cringed and hunched over, gripping his side. The damage from the previous fight still lingered--probably a cracked or even broken rib. "I'll... hahh... I will go as well. To help you... in just a moment," said the smaller islander, motioning for her to go on ahead. The boxer looked to his cohort with some concern, then turned to Isolda. When she marched on ahead, a look back told the swordswoman that Sorio wouldn't be too far behind. Renan eventually chose to follow as well, but opted to remain a safe distance off to the side, so as not to be noticed by the throng of mutants that began to filter out of the dilapidated mill.

While it may have been better for them, strategically, to stay within the confines of their building, something told Isolda that their capability to use logic and reason was at an all-time low, as if it were even that high to begin with. Berthane was dead, and they had discovered as much. One of the spindly, limber mutants, revealed in the setting sun as a grotesque, pink-skinned humanoid with random tufts of gray hair sprouting out every which way, stood alone at the highest point of the structure. He had one particularly large eye, which he had apparently used from his position to spot Berthane's withered corpse--that seemed to be the tip-off. He continued to growl and make strange gestures from where he stood.

As Isolda looked in front of her, out on the field of dried up grass and weeds stood a dozen mutants, including the short pig-like man from earlier, all brandishing crude, jagged weapons, just as she had seen before. Meanwhile, noises could still be heard from within, and two more of the thinner untouchables clambered up onto the rooftop, eyeing her with sharpened pieces of rock, steel, and wood between their fingers--ones that were small enough to throw, no less. The white-haired beauty had several seconds to prepare for what would inevitably turn into a brutal battle, given the murderous intent radiating off of the crowd before her. Not that such auras bothered her in the slightest, as they paled in comparison to her own.

Enemies:
Untouchable-caste Brawler x 12
Untouchable-caste Rogue x 3
 
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Tassadar

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Re: Gangs of Havenport (Tassadar) GMed by Takimaru

Isolda's gaze softened slightly at the wounded Renan's reply to her berating, and in a more even tone she replied; "It's alright, and I appreciate the sentiment! Really I do! But be more careful next time." She paused, and her faced screwed up into a curious look, "What do you mean he was going to change anyway? Did you know that he was going to do that?" It was an odd thought, but it was certainly within the realm of possibility that Sorio and Renan might know more about the individual members of the Black Hepta than she did.

Later, when the two made their responses to her expressed intent, Isolda smiled slightly at Sorio as he immediately stepped up, but then frowned as Renan once more clutched at his injured side. Glancing back at Sorio and pausing in her march towards the group assembling outside the abandoned mill, she said; "Look after him, that side of his could get worse if he plays with it too much." She paused for a second and glanced ahead, and in a softer tone added; "I'd understand if you kept out of this one Sorio. What I'm about to do isn't exactly noble, and Renan is injured enough that I'd be worried about him getting into trouble if one of them broke off and went after him. I won't force you to fight, but I won't stop you from doing so either. It has to be your choice this time, not mine."

With that Isolda started forward again, watching the mutants assemble before her. It was almost amusing, looking at them. Their freakish appearances and the pure rage that burned in their eyes might have intimidated another, but with her training in the Mulweissen style Isolda couldn't help but see how sloppy their fighting styles would be, and how easy they'd be to evade even when attacking en-masse so long as she kept up her footwork. They'd come out into the open to face her, meaning they'd already given up the brunt of their home field advantage, though Isolda was ever on the look out for traps and tricks. The wanderer was confident in her abilities to fight even so many, but the reasons for the oncoming battle wore at her slightly, and so as she drew near to the formation, she paused and calmly placed a hand on her waist - secretly the handle of serpentius but apparently as a gesture of peace.

"I am sorry that this has come to pass," the wanderer stated earnestly, raising her voice so that the mutants could all hear her, even those ascending the side of the building that they might no doubt start flinging the detritus clutched in their hands at her when the battle began. "I know that, whatever else that man might have been, he was probably a hero to you lot. I'd bet he was the only one who ever treated you like human beings rather than monsters, and that by killing him I've taken away the only good thing that's ever happened to you." Her tone had been frank up until then, and as she went on it hardened considerably; "That said, he was a real monster rather than just a mutant, and refused to share a few bits of information on a worse monster that might have seen him spared. I gain nothing by killing you, but all that same..."

Gripping the handle of Denth's whip-sword where it rested against her waist, Isolda clicked it out of the jagged edge into which it had locked and drew it in the same smooth motion, flashing it with her fire before letting it go dark and flicking it towards the ground. "...I will have no mercy upon you if you come to me armed. Know that if you come to fight me, you come to join Berthane in the Void!" With that Isolda flicked her wrist and raised her arm, bring serpentius upwards, before setting the exotic weapon into the same sort of spin that its former owner had employed against her only a few hours earlier.

Watching the motions that Denth had employed with it and her own brief experiment with it had gleaned Isolda the basics of using the weapon, but its more advanced techniques still escaped her. It was clearly a weapon that needed a bit of use to master properly, but one that she found perfectly suited to her mother's style, as it would allow her to reach points that a straight blade would never have been able to, opening up all new avenues of attack. The shear weight of options open to her was staggering, but for the moment she opted to stick to the familiar tactics and work from there. She had to create an opening, an invitation for the mutants to follow, and then she'd let her weapon do the rest, flicking her wrist and rotating her arm in order to bring the whip-sword to bear against any who would attack her... And when she did, she intended to keep serpentius alight with her flames throughout the skirmish, ensuring that it bit all the harder.

Draw serpentius, activate Defensive Stance and use Lightning Strikes and 10 points of defensive fighting. That should bring her Dodge up to 76, though only 66 against ye ranged attacks cuz not in melee.

Her three counter attacks against those that miss: (+31) 2d8 + 26 + 1d8 fire

Yes she gets all three against each dude. Yes I realize that that could merit up to 36 attacks from her this round, assuming none of them use any skills to get more.
 
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Takimaru

Takimaru

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Re: Gangs of Havenport (Tassadar) GMed by Takimaru

Status:
Isolda: HP = 32/91, PP = 41, EP = 27/42, Status = Normal

Renan: HP = 23/53, PP = 41, EP = 38, Status = Normal
Sorio: HP = 89/115, PP = 41, EP = 42, Status = Normal

Rolls:
Untouchable-caste Rogue A's attack vs. Isolda:
(Rolled an 18) + 52 = 70. Hit.
Damage:
(Rolled a 1, 5) + 18 = 24 - 12 = 12.
Untouchable-caste Rogue B's attack vs. Isolda:
(Rolled a 19) + 52 = 71. Hit.
Damage:
(Rolled a 3, 1) + 18 = 22 - 12 = 10.
Untouchable-caste Rogue C's attack vs. Isolda:
(Rolled a 20) + 52 = 72. Hit.
Damage:
(Rolled a 5, 1) + 18 = 24 - 12 = 12.

Isolda takes 34 damage total from the projectiles.

Untouchable-caste Brawler A's attack vs. Isolda:
(Rolled an 8) + 40 = 48. Miss.
Untouchable-caste Brawler B's attack vs. Isolda:
(Rolled a 9) + 40 = 49. Miss.
Untouchable-caste Brawler C's attack vs. Isolda:
(Rolled a 3) + 40 = 43. Miss.
Untouchable-caste Brawler D's attack vs. Isolda:
(Rolled a 12) + 40 = 52. Miss.
Untouchable-caste Brawler E's attack vs. Isolda:
(Rolled a 13) + 40 = 53. Miss.
Untouchable-caste Brawler F's attack vs. Isolda:
(Rolled a 12) + 40 = 52. Miss.
Untouchable-caste Brawler G's attack vs. Isolda:
(Rolled a 3) + 40 = 43. Miss.
Untouchable-caste Brawler H's attack vs. Isolda:
(Rolled an 11) + 40 = 51. Miss.
Untouchable-caste Brawler I's attack vs. Isolda:
(Rolled a 4) + 40 = 44. Miss.
Untouchable-caste Brawler J's attack vs. Isolda:
(Rolled a 2) + 40 = 42. Miss.
Untouchable-caste Brawler K's attack vs. Isolda:
(Rolled a 15) + 40 = 55. Miss.
Untouchable-caste Brawler L's attack vs. Isolda (this guy is the pig):
(Rolled an 8) + 20 = 28. Miss.

Well... that sucks for them.
Isolda's probably like... MY TURN.

Isolda's counterattack vs. Untouchable-caste Brawler A:
All auto-hits; meaning even her rolls of '1' result in a Hit.
Damage:
(Rolled a 6, 6) + (Rolled a 1) + 26 = 39
(Rolled a 5, 2) + (Rolled a 4) + 26 = 37
(Rolled a 1, 8) + (Rolled a 4) + 26 = 39
Uhhhh... yeah. Let's just say dead.

Isolda's counterattack vs. Untouchable-caste Brawler B:
All auto-hits.
Damage:
(Rolled a 3, 3) + (Rolled a 6) + 26 = 38
(Rolled a 2, 7) + (Rolled a 6) + 26 = 41
(Rolled a 5, 4) + (Rolled a 8) + 26 = 43
Dead.

Isolda's counterattack vs. Untouchable-caste Brawler C:
All auto-hits.
Damage:
(Rolled a 5, 5) + (Rolled a 8) + 26 = 44
(Rolled a 2, 7) + (Rolled a 8) + 26 = 43
(Rolled a 8, 1) + (Rolled a 4) + 26 = 39
Dead.

Isolda's counterattack vs. Untouchable-caste Brawler D:
All auto-hits.
Damage:
(Rolled a 2, 3) + (Rolled a 3) + 26 = 34
(Rolled a 2, 2) + (Rolled a 4) + 26 = 34
(Rolled a 6, 4) + (Rolled a 7) + 26 = 43
Dead.

Isolda's counterattack vs. Untouchable-caste Brawler E:
All auto-hits.
Damage:
(Rolled a 1, 1) + (Rolled a 7) + 26 = 35
(Rolled a 6, 2) + (Rolled a 7) + 26 = 41
(Rolled a 3, 7) + (Rolled a 8) + 26 = 44
Dead.

Isolda's counterattack vs. Untouchable-caste Brawler F:
All auto-hits.
Damage:
(Rolled a 2, 3) + (Rolled a 1) + 26 = 32
(Rolled a 8, 7) + (Rolled a 5) + 26 = 46
(Rolled a 2, 8) + (Rolled a 3) + 26 = 39
Dead.

Isolda's counterattack vs. Untouchable-caste Brawler G:
All auto-hits.
Damage:
(Rolled a 1, 3) + (Rolled a 3) + 26 = 32
(Rolled a 2, 2) + (Rolled a 4) + 26 = 34
(Rolled a 6, 7) + (Rolled a 2) + 26 = 41
Dead.

Isolda's counterattack vs. Untouchable-caste Brawler H:
All auto-hits.
Damage:
(Rolled a 4, 3) + (Rolled a 3) + 26 = 36
(Rolled a 5, 1) + (Rolled a 4) + 26 = 36
(Rolled a 2, 7) + (Rolled a 5) + 26 = 40
Dead.

Isolda's counterattack vs. Untouchable-caste Brawler I:
All auto-hits.
Damage:
(Rolled a 2, 3) + (Rolled a 7) + 26 = 38
(Rolled a 1, 6) + (Rolled a 6) + 26 = 39
(Rolled a 4, 8) + (Rolled a 7) + 26 = 45
Dead.

Isolda's counterattack vs. Untouchable-caste Brawler J:
All auto-hits.
Damage:
(Rolled a 2, 8) + (Rolled a 8) + 26 = 44
(Rolled a 1, 7) + (Rolled a 1) + 26 = 34
(Rolled a 6, 6) + (Rolled a 8) + 26 = 46
Dead.

Isolda's counterattack vs. Untouchable-caste Brawler K:
All auto-hits.
Damage:
(Rolled a 1, 1) + (Rolled a 4) + 26 = 32
(Rolled a 7, 8) + (Rolled a 5) + 26 = 46
(Rolled a 5, 5) + (Rolled a 7) + 26 = 43
Dead.

Isolda's counterattack vs. Untouchable-caste Brawler L:
All auto-hits.
Damage:
(Rolled a 2, 1) + (Rolled a 2) + 26 = 31
(Rolled a 3, 3) + (Rolled a 4) + 26 = 36
(Rolled a 6, 6) + (Rolled a 6) + 26 = 44
Dead.

Total of 12 Untouchable-caste Brawlers slain.

As easy as he was to bring down, Renan was just as simple to cheer up, and Isolda's change in tone caused his visage to brighten up in time. "I did not -know-, no... but many stories went around town. Of a man from ah, Black Hepta, that changes--like he did. I was not sure if it was him, but...hmm. Had a bad feeling," remarked the Talean.

When addressed, Sorio simply nodded. It was clear now that the naturally reticent prizefighter could understand what Isolda was saying, but even with that revealed he still chose to communicate in gestures, as a man who let actions do most of the talking. He turned back to attend to Renan, who shook his head, uttering something in Talean, and made a dismissive gesture. It appeared that the less sturdy of the two warriors had other plans; perhaps having the boxer hang around him would ruin his cover. Sorio wouldn't leave him so easily, though, leaving Isolda free to face the group of creatures alone, at least for the time being.

"Killed... Berrrthhhaane..." growled the small pig-like man, one of the few that the wanderer would recognize from their previous encounter. Isolda's words didn't seem to reach them. Even if they could comprehend what she was saying, they were beyond reason at that point, and likely far too separated from society to understand the things their leader might have done to earn the Voidic beauty's ire. Much of the subtlety she had cared to use, from her body language to her discrete manner of preparing Serpentinus, as well as a rare apology, was wasted on them. At this point they were less like humans and more like wild animals, their physical distance from the more 'civilized' parts of Havenport almost directly representative of their state of mind. All they knew was that their livelihood had been taken from them, that the smell of their provider's gore was still upon Isolda's blade, and that she would suffer for it. Fear had been overcome by sheer anger. Someone had to be the subject of their frustrations, and who better to take that role than the one who had caused such troubles in the first place?

Uncoiling her newly acquired weapon and swinging it in a wide arc over her head, Isolda found Denth's original blade to be somewhat difficult to wield, as expected, but even then, she was no slow learner when it came to arts related to sex or violence. It only took a few rotations for her to get the hang of the metal's motions, tendencies and momentum, and she felt that progressing into vertical or horizontal loops would be no issue as well. However, getting the forked tip of the blade exactly where she wanted to go, the way Denth did, would take a bit more practice. The moment when she set the whip-like sword alight caused a confused and collective 'hwooh' sound from the mob in front of her, but they held their ground for the time being. While it was tricky to precisely manipulate the end of her weapon, Isolda felt that she still had a fair amount of control over its length, and any mutant foolish enough to enter within range of it would find themselves with multiple lacerations deep enough to be worrisome, if not worse. It would take quite a bit of courage, or rather nerve, to charge her at this point.

However, the first attacks came not from those in front of her, but from the three rogues on the edge of the mill's rooftop. They were just a few feet short of her reach, even with the long weapon, though a few steps forward could bring them within range. However, given the way that the dozen or so brawlers began to circle her, she had to keep her current weapon ready to strike. It proved to be quite a disadvantage for Isolda to mind both the trio up high and those on the ground. Just as the pig-like midget on the ground yelled a battle cry from the back ranks, a hail of various projectiles came down on her from above. With a well-timed brandish of her sword-whip, she barely managed to deflect the first few shards of metal and rock, but the sheer number of them left her overwhelmed, and the excess made it past her defenses, shooting through the gaps in her armor to reach the flesh beneath. One even grazed her upper cheek, leaving a small gash beneath her eye, while others flew right over her head. Luckily for Isolda, her armor absorbed much of the damage that the jagged rocks and oversized splinters would have otherwise caused.

With each handful of the lanky assailants' thrown weapons spent, they immediately began to dig into the roof, using pieces of the structure itself to provide them with the desired ammunition for the next volley. The rain of stones that fell upon the swordswoman gave the throng of mutants the courage to come charging in, and they were upon her in a second. Many of them had natural physical gifts beyond that of ordinary humans, perhaps borne from years of infighting and simply surviving in the most primitive of fashions. They were simply faster and stronger than the thugs she had encounters at the Ebonstone, and the white-haired wanderer noticed this just as they moved into range. However, for all of their impressive physicality, they were undisciplined, and telegraphed their attacks far worse than even Denth's sword-wielding thugs did.

While those shortcomings could easily be overlooked against a lesser opponent, they proved fatal against a competent wielder of the Mulweissen Form in Isolda. Even with a weapon mostly unfamiliar to her, she managed to slip and weave through three simultaneous attacks before employing the section of her urumi closest to the handle as a knife, raising it to each foe's throat or limb and then following through with terrifying speed and power, allowing the rest of the serrated blade to catch up as flames began to cover it. As she twirled the long, whip-like sword around her, eventually transitioning from a horizontal to a vertical axis and back, one after another fell to her swift counterattack. From a distance, it looked like less of a return blow than an aggressive onslaught, and though the late Denth might have called her attacks simple, they were effective.

Numerous charred, severed limbs and even heads fell in her wake. Some died before the agonizing flames could consume them, while others were reduced to blackened corpses. For all of their strength, the brawlers rushing her were made to look like complete amateurs. Amusingly enough, the last assailant to charge her was the speaker from before, the diminutive pig-like man, whose attempt at harming the much taller, white-haired beauty was as pathetic as his appearance. He stumbled, face-down into the dirt, and while he took a crippling blow from a mere passing graze of Isolda's weapon, he lived despite that, allowing the Voidic woman to do as she pleased with him.

Unfortunately, she didn't quite have the time for an extended torture session, as six more grunts came storming out of the building. While similar in build to those that the wanderer had just slain, these mutants bore large claws, with arms the size of most peoples' legs. As they surveyed the bloody mess that this strange woman had created, the three rogues atop the mill stood up, having acquired enough random, sharp objects to chuck in her direction. Another barrage taken like before wouldn't end well, Isolda knew, and she had to get up there as fast as possible, otherwise they could continue to bombard her unimpeded. Isolda's keen eyes spotted a gradually ascending path made by the mill's own half-collapsed walls that she could take to confront the untouchables above.

Then, several quick footsteps could be heard approaching from behind her. It was Sorio, and he popped into stance beside her. The menacing newcomers began strafing to the side, back towards the mill, as if to keep Isolda from reaching the thinner mutants above, but the Talean pugilist moved swiftly to block them in turn, giving her a nod. He would handle the clawed ones for now, or so his body language said as much, leaving the Voidic warrior free to deliver punishment against the only members of the group who had managed to hurt her thus far.

Enemies:
Untouchable-caste Slasher x 6
Untouchable-caste Rogue x 3
 

Tassadar

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Re: Gangs of Havenport (Tassadar) GMed by Takimaru

That the mutants opted to attack her didn't particularly surprise Isolda. She'd fully expected her words and her actions to have no effect, and had even been at least partially mentally prepared for the animal ferocity that they displayed at learning that she'd killed the man that had provided for them. Unfortunately, she hadn't been quite prepared for the display of accuracy by the ones flinging bits of assorted sharp objects from the roof, nor for the cunning that the others displayed in waiting for the barrage to end before charging her. Isolda found it much more difficult to move effectively, particularly with her relatively unwieldy weapon, when she had a chunk of sharp glass embedded in her lower ribs, her armor having mitigated but not eliminated the power of the strike. Blood ran down her cheek from a sharp stone that had whizzed just past her as well, and she could feel a nail embedded in one of her forearms as she swung serpentius around to ward off the oncoming rush of brutish monster-men.

When they finally did come in toward her, it was actually almost refreshing. Taking the brunt of the barrage of detritus had left the wanderer steaming with anger and wincing with every motion, and she had an opportunity to earn a bit of her pride back following the brutal series of attacks. The combination of her own footwork and agility and the wide arc and deadly defense offered by Denth's whip-sword made for a near-perfect defense against melee attackers she found, particularly against less skilled ones such as the mob of mutants that was rushing her now. The barbaric fighters, armed only with improvised weapons, rushed the wanderer with wild abandon. They were stronger and faster than the average human fighter despite their deformities, that much Isolda recognized instantly. A competent trainer could have made the ragged bunch into a fighting force to be feared, and she idly wondered whether Berthane had ever thought the same even as she maneuvered herself and her spinning blade to receive them.

Their brute strength was nothing new to Isolda, who had fought the deadly beasts and barbaric tribesmen of the Gremic mountains, and their lack of technique to back their ferocity up meant that she had little trouble in now only avoiding them, but in counterattacking as well. Serpentius was, as she'd expected, a difficult weapon to master even for her, and as she worked with the whip-sword Isolda realized that she would need to practice a great deal more with it than she had initially thought. She tried some of the moves she'd seen Denth use in her battle against him and found herself unable to replicate them properly, a fact that frustrated the wanderer endlessly as she weaved between the charging mutants like a storm of burning steel. She was relegated to more simplistic strikes than the ones she'd wanted, but even in that serpentius proved up to the task of laying her foes low, cutting through flesh and bone with terrifying ease for a weapon of its weight courtesy of the tooth-like serrations and the flames that she lit along its blade.

One by one the mutants came at her, and one by one they fell like shredded leaves before her, until the very last of them - the pig man that had done the talking - fell to wounds that would eventually prove lethal. Keeping serpentius at full spin despite the continued ache of her now numerous injuries, Isolda looked up at the roof to see the mutants up there already preparing to rain projectiles at her again, despite the fact that she'd just slaughtered a dozen of their comrades. 'Persistent lot,' she thought silently to herself as she weighed her options for getting to them, quickly spotting the way up to the roof just as she was considering using one of the more exotic abilities offered by her voidic powers. The sloped portion of the collapsed roof would get her up to the top with a decent bounding leap, one that she was confident that she could make quite easily so long as she wasn't impeded somehow.

Such wasn't to be so, however, as another half dozen of them came streaming out of the abandoned mill, these ones sporting claws that looked more like they belonged on a creature from the void than on a mortal in place of normal weapons. "Void take you all," she muttered under her breath, preparing to enact her powers in a desperate bid to get up to the roof so that she could take out those ranged fighters. Sorio's sudden rush into the fray allowed the wanderer to alter her plans, however, and she flashed him a smile as she looked back at her path up to the roof.

"Keep 'em busy for me! I'll be right back!" she said brightly, and slowed serpentius as she rushed past the boxer towards her goal, ensuring that she wouldn't wing him by accident or get the weapon caught on something as she charged straight for her goal. Isolda was well over six feet tall, leaving her possessed with plentifully long legs, and had more than enough muscle to allow her to make quite a leap even with all of her gear. As such, she ascended the broken section of roof in leaps and bounds, unconcerned if it would collapse behind her so long as she made it all the way to the top, where her opponents waited. By then they'd surely already be taking aim with their next barrage, but Isolda didn't even need her weapon for what she intended to do next.

Calling upon her voidic powers normally meant that Isolda would be enhancing her own strength, but she had mastered a few other uses for it. Her ability to create fire gates, a trademark of the Hardtslag tradition of swordswomanship, had allowed her to master an ability to cancel out the gates of others, and she'd even used it to counter magics similar to her own, and consume the energies that her foes had used. Another ability that she'd mastered at a much younger age, however, allowed her to consume the very life essences of her foes to heal her own wounds. She'd used it to great effect in longer battles, using it to restore her stamina mid combat while simultaneously harming her opponents, and it was that ability that Isolda planned to use now.

The air immediately around the wanderer blackened as if filled with some foul mist as she drew near to the pelter mutants, her eyes emitting a toxic violet color as the twirling blade of serpentius formed a makeshift shield around her. "You'll wish you'd never come out of that mill!" she howled darkly as she came within range such that the mutants couldn't easily get out of the way, and then the dark powers she'd been conjuring lashed out at her foes.... And anyone and anything else living that happened to be within reach of the magic's effect. Tendrils of pure blackness lashed out at every living thing, great or small, and sought to tore their life energies from their bodies, and if they were successful Isolda would find her wounds healing suddenly, the nail and the glass pushed out of her torn flesh as it slowly mended itself, healing without leaving the slightest scar so long as she got enough energy to restore herself fully.

Run up to the second level and use Life Leech X = 10, breaking her ceiling by 5 and costing her an additional 5 HP and 5 EP for a total of 15 EP and 5 HP. Try to get all three of them rock throwing assholes and maybe some of the other guys, if possible, but don't risk hitting Sorio. She still gets her dodge bonus from Duelist and will be using 13 points of defensive fighting, bringing her attack bonus to an even +40 and her Dodge up to 79!

Life Leech
The character steals the life essence of all creatures nearby, using it to regain some of their own strength.
-The character pays X EP.
-All creatures within 20 feet of the character take (1d8 + 1) * X damage. The character also regains 2X HP for every creature hit by this power.
 
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