Gangs of Havenport (Tassadar) GMed by Takimaru

[Takimaru]

Re: Gangs of Havenport (Tassadar) GMed by Takimaru

Status:

Spoiler

Isolda: HP = 91/91, PP = 41, EP = 17/42, Status = Normal

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

Rolls:

Spoiler

Sorio uses Defensive Fighting at +10, lowering his attack rolls by 10 while bringing his dodge up to 79.

Sorio's Shattering Blow vs. Untouchable-caste Slasher F:
(Rolled a 20) + 38 = 58. Hit.
Damage:
(Rolled a 3) + 22 = 25 * 2 = 50. Untouchable-caste Slasher F is dead.

Isolda's Life Leech (X = 10) vs. Untouchable-caste Slasher E, Untouchable-caste Rogue A, B and C:
Success and hit.
Damage:
(Rolled an 8) + 1 = 9 * 10 = 90. All three rogues and one slasher are dead.
Isolda gains 20 * 3 = 60 HP, bringing her back up to 91.

Untouchable-caste Slasher A's attack vs. Sorio:
Miss.
Untouchable-caste Slasher B's attack vs. Sorio:
Miss.
Untouchable-caste Slasher C's attack vs. Sorio:
Miss.
Untouchable-caste Slasher D's attack vs. Sorio:
Miss.

By the time Sorio had come to Isolda's aid, he was all too prepared to avoid the razor-clawed mutants' attacks; his defense was impeccable, as the wanderer had come to learn first hand, and it wasn't to wilt against the likes of these furious pariahs. The first of them swung at the Talean's face, using both hands in a telegraphed, yet swift lunge. Understanding that attempting to simply block the sharp, ichor-covered nails would likely do him no good in the long run, Sorio tucked his chin and shoulders downward, weaving right past his attacker. The clawed brute, noticing that his own wild swing had caused the boxer to move past him without chance of a counterattack, thanks to the other untouchables, took the opportunity to rush up towards the mill's rooftop in an attempt to flank Isolda, who had just entered within range of the shard-hurling trio.

It proved to be a case of incredibly poor timing on the assailant's part, as he rushed right into one of Isolda's dark tendrils, only to find his life force drained thanks to the extension's corruptive influence. Likewise, the three rogues up on the building with the swordswoman hadn't so much as completed their throws before the potent Voidic energies reached them. This misty, black essence, found in many locales within the Void itself, was highly corruptive in its own right. Normally, breathed in as air, it would slowly warp one's mind and body into disarray, turning a normally orderly mind into a sick perversion of what it once was. But concentrated, it was debilitating for many. The way Isolda had conjured it, compressed to an even higher degree, it was deadly. This was an ability characteristic of some Void Demons--whose natural affinity with their own realm made it much easier for them to work with Voidic gates. The four mutants surrounding Isolda were reduced to nothing more than withered corpses by the time she finished, and in the aftermath, the cut upon her cheek, along with the other wounds on her body, closed up, leaving her looking as if nothing had ever happened.

A glance down from the roof would tell Isolda that her athletic ally was faring reasonably well against his attackers, slipping, bobbing and easily avoiding each furious swipe from an assortment of clawed hands. The sheer size of the untouchables' primary weapons said more than enough in terms of what kind of damage they could cause upon a successful hit, but not one landed upon Sorio's thick skin. More impressive was his footwork, allowing him to dodge one, then the other without ever being completely surrounded due to developed instincts that kept him at the edge of the cluster at all times instead of charging straight into it. No matter how desperately they sought to swarm him, they could never quite pin the boxer down, as he remained in a state of perpetual motion.

Then, he began his counterattack. As the last of the remaining five slashed at Sorio desperately, leading with their left claw, the more experienced fighter dropped low, delivering a looping right hand that landed flush on the creature's chin. His well-timed counter instantly shattered bone and effectively severed the hapless foe from its consciousness. Despite a most impressive down, he remained keen to observe the others, ready to move again if he needed to. He didn't, and the four regrouped together closer to where Isolda stood, just above them. With their focus remaining on her ally, the swordswoman had an opportunity to strike the lot of them, either employing Serpentinus' deadly reach or an alternative tactic, if she was so inclined.

Spoiler

Enemies:
Untouchable-caste Slasher x 4

 

[Tassadar]

Re: Gangs of Havenport (Tassadar) GMed by Takimaru

Isolda let out a low belly laugh as the voidic mists slowly filtered back to her, revealing her with all of her injuries gone as if they'd never been and her flesh glowing with a frightful shadowy blackness. It was an intoxicating power, conjuring the voidic mists and restoring her own life energies with them, but one that she kept from calling on too often for fear of overusing it. She'd heard stories of mages becoming addicted to such powers, and while she had at times thought that the heritage from which she'd gained her unnatural powers might have shielded her from that, the wanderer had long ago decided not to risk it. Besides, while the black magic might be enjoyable in its own right, it could never hold a candle to the sword in the wanderer's mind.

Looking down, Isolda saw that Sorio was holding his own quite well, and that she'd even managed to eliminate one of the clawed mutants with her magic while Sorio had smacked another down with his fist. The numbers of their enemies were no longer so great that she couldn't opt to take more risks with her fighting, and with a grin Isolda looked down upon her distracted opponents and, simply.... Leaped. Serpentius whirling about her, the wanderer jumped down from the dilapidated roof to stand behind the group closing in on Sorio. She dropped to a crouch when she landed, her boots making a soft thump and her knees bending to absorb the impact gradually, but her whip-like blade was already whirling forward with deadly intent. Serpentius lashed against the back of one of the mutant's knees, dragging the jagged blade against muscle and tendon and ripping both asunder until naught but bone remained.

A downward flick of her wrist had the whip-like blade snapping upwards, the last few inches and the forked tip digging into its shoulder, but that was only the setup. For her final move, Isolda reversed her move and angled it slightly to the side, cracking the weapon like a whip and directing it against her victim's neck. Rising to her feet, Isolda yanked back on Serpentius and prepared to send the weapon into its deadly spin, watching with a grin as her target fell. "You are all going to die tonight~" she hissed softly, obvious joy in her voice at the prospects of their deaths. She didn't expect it to intimidate the near-mindless fighters, but she was acting as the moment dictated without much thought on it. Besides, it couldn't hurt to take some of the heat off of Sorio, even if he did seem to be able to handle it.

Spoiler

Isolda uses Lightning Strikes on one of them with 10 points of defensive fighting! That's a solid +33 attack and 2d8 + 26 + 1d8 fire damage. She'd have 66 Dodge. Next round she'd do the same thing that she did 2 rounds ago, defensive stance and lightning strikes with 10 points of defensive fighting unless it looks like they're going to keep going after Sorio. Otherwise she'll lightning strikes another one. She's not going to be showing any mercy on these poor saps, so feel free to play it out til it's done.

 

[Takimaru]

Re: Gangs of Havenport (Tassadar) GMed by Takimaru

Status:

Spoiler

Isolda: HP = 91/91, PP = 41, EP = 17/42, Status = Normal

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

Rolls:

Spoiler

Isolda's Lightning Strikes vs. Untouchable-caste Slasher C:
All three hit.

Damage:
(Rolled a 6, 5, 2) + 26 = 39.
(Rolled a 4, 6, 5) + 26 = 41.
(Rolled a 2, 5, 5) + 26 = 38.
Untouchable-caste Slasher C is dead.

Sorio maintains his Defensive Fighting at +10, lowering his attack rolls by 10 while bringing his dodge up to 79.

Sorio's Shattering Blow vs. Untouchable-caste Slasher D:
Hit.
Damage:
(Rolled a 5) + 22 = 27 * 2 = 54. Untouchable-caste Slasher D is dead.

Untouchable-caste Slasher A's attack vs. Isolda:
Miss.
Untouchable-caste Slasher B's attack vs. Sorio:
Miss.

The next round brings similar results, since Isolda and Sorio have the initiative in this case, finishing up the last two.
Isolda's Lightning Strikes vs. Untouchable-caste Slasher A:
All three hit.
Damage:
(Rolled a 7, 4, 1) + 26 = 38.
(Rolled a 7, 6, 2) + 26 = 41.
(Rolled a 1, 4, 4) + 26 = 35.
Untouchable-caste Slasher A is dead.

Sorio's Shattering Blow vs. Untouchable-caste Slasher B:
Hit.
Damage:
(Rolled a 3) + 22 = 25 * 2 = 50. Untouchable-caste Slasher B is dead.

As the life essence of her victims imbued Isolda with renewed vigor, she felt a deep rush travel through her body, not entirely dissimilar to what she felt in the throes of sexual passion. However, while it appealed all too well to her Voidic impulses, the human--and especially elven--parts of her felt somehow further away when she used it to this magnitude. Attachments to others, as well as thoughts of mercy or compassion, seemed less important for the time being, often replaced by brief spells of bloodlust or carnal desire. Of course, it was but a temporary feeling, lasting perhaps just a few seconds, but was still enough of a disturbance to make lesser wielders rather uncomfortable. Only thanks to Isolda's tremendous discipline as a practitioner of the Mulweissen Form was she able to curb the negative impulses, carrying on with far more clarity than she would have otherwise. Still, the odd feelings were never fully extinguished in spite of all her training.

Mercy, however, was not something that the Voidic wanderer was keen on granting these mutants, and a sharp reminder of that came to one of the remaining four in the form of an attack most cruel. The serrated edges of Isolda's weapon made short work of the clawed outcast's leg, eventually separating the lower half of the limb from the rest of his body. Worse, it didn't do so in a clean fashion--the way flesh was torn from bone was anything but. The berserker's blood-curdling scream did a good job of emphasizing the immense pain that came along with the bite of Isolda's unique sword, and his body spun about naturally from the force of her pull. Two more swiftly delivered strikes put him out of his misery, though this wasn't nearly enough to deter the creature's cohorts, who, despite the swordswoman's arrival to their fight, focused their efforts on the evasive boxer. Isolda would have to initiate combat herself, but it wasn't a problem for her.

In the same fashion that she had caused Serpentinus to coil around the first untouchable's leg and effectively sever it, the white-haired beauty found the neck of a second... just as he rushed forward to take a slash at Sorio. What resulted was not terribly unlike an execution by hanging, save for the fact that it was done horizontally, and the victim stopped short of being able to reach the muscular Talean with his razor-sharp fingernails, instinctively clutching at his own throat as Serpentinus tightened beneath his chin, its edges digging in further. A brutal and powerful yanking motion performed by Isolda just seconds later effectively decapitated the hapless monster, who could do nothing afterwards short of falling to the ground and spewing blood everywhere from the stump of his neck. His body twitched a few times afterwards, but could manage little more after that.

In comparison, Sorio's opponents had it much better. The first slasher moved in, overcommitting himself to a diagonal swing, only to eat a bone-crushing body blow from the more martial of the two islanders, but despite the damage taken, remained standing. This proved to be a mistake against Sorio, who capitalized by delivering a quick hook to the other side of the creature's trunk, followed by yet another to its temple, then finished with one of the most potent uppercuts Isolda had ever seen, leaving the specimen lifeless on the ground. The next faced a similar fate, taking a single straight punch that rendered it unconscious, and another skull-crushing blow that stopped its breathing. Instinctively, the boxer circled out and viewed his surroundings after the fact, but there were no opponents remaining in the immediate vicinity. If there was anyone left in the mill, they weren't making any sounds that even the half-elf could hear with her sharp ears.

Roughly half a minute later, Renan emerged from some bushes nearby, still looking to be in less than optimal shape, but alive nonetheless. A quick search of the bodies would reveal that they had nothing of real value, or at least no items that could easily be traded off to merchants in Havenport, unless Isolda thought to deal in corpses, body parts and bloody rags. After all, this group of outcasts were largely shunned by society, and as such had little that the city would consider valuable in its own right.

With the abandoned mill and the field of dying grass surrounding it covered by an unnerving silence, Isolda and her partners found themselves alone. Only the gentle bustle of the city slums just beyond them could be heard, obscured only by a very light cover of small, dying trees. Even then, none of the inhabitants of those districts dared approach the bloody aftermath of the battle. By this time, the sky had reached a dim blue tint typical of evenings on this side of the western continent. It was then up to Isolda to find lodging for the night, or to take her chances with the denizens of Havenport's notorious night life.

Spoiler

Isolda gains 8 EXP from the battle.
No additional Gold found.

 

[Tassadar]

Re: Gangs of Havenport (Tassadar) GMed by Takimaru

During the last few moments of their combat against the mutants, Isolda watched not only the manner in which Serpentius moved, but the way in which Sorio fought against their clawed opponents. The weapon and the boxer were both things she intended to study, and the wanderer had had enough practice fighting multiple opponents that she was able to observe both at once without too much trouble. While she was far from mastery, which would come with practice, Isolda was beginning to at least grow used to the unusual weapon. She wasn't quite practiced enough to start using more than the basics where the jagged whip-sword was concerned, and couldn't start using more advanced techniques than the simplistic strikes she'd been using, but she was at least starting to get used to it. The boxer that she likewise observed, in the meantime, held her gaze almost hypnotically in her present state, still being in something of a high following the intake of life essence through her voidic powers even though her disciplined mind hadn't allowed her to be controlled by those urges. She had enjoyed the man's embrace only a short while ago, after all, and Isolda had always had a preference for martially able partners. Seeing him fighting at his best was a treat, and as she intended to train under the boxer there were academic reasons for her attentions as well.

The battle, as brutal as it was, didn't last long. Wrapping Serpentius around the throat of one of the last of their opponents, Isolda let out a bark of savage, mirthless laughter as she took his head from his shoulders in a fashion even more brutal than her normal manner, which was saying something. She was beginning to enjoy this weapon, a fact that was possibly more important than being initially skilled with it, as Isolda did her best and most brutal work while she was having fun in battle. Watching Sorio deliver a striking combo to the very last of the mutants attacking them was even more fun, however, as she got to watch it in detail while idly spinning Serpentius to clean the burning blade of the blood coating it. The uppercut with which the powerful Talean finished the series of blows even drew a little cheer from the voidic wanderer, and once she was certain that all of them had been taken care of soundly Isolda stopped her whip-sword and sound it back around her waist. It would need a cleaning, but then so would Berthane's double-blade and her own weapon, as well as the dagger with which she'd ended Denth earlier that day. It was just that weapon that she drew then, though before she set about finishing her grisly work Isolda nodded at Sorio and said; "Thank you for the assistance my friend! I owe you one~"

With that, Isolda would go to each of the mutants and ensure that none of them suffered, just as she'd promised Berthane. The pig-like man she left for last, knowing that she hadn't quite mortally wounded him, and when she found the creature she turned him onto his back and said; "This was all pointless. I just thought I'd tell you that. I had no interest in killing you, and Berthane could have saved your lives by offering me a few words. Take that knowledge with you to the void!" With that, she calmly slit his throat, after which she rose to find Renan approaching them, still favoring his injured side. "Do either of you know a healer? I won't be needing one anymore, but I'd like to see you both taken care of before we part for the night. You both took some pretty nasty hits from Berthane," she said quietly, slightly hesitant to break the sudden gripping silence that surrounded them in the field beside the dilapidated old mill.

She had plans to go and see Ciran, with whom she intended to bunk for the night, but seeing to her two comrades in arms was her first concern. While she wasn't one to back down from any fight in general, facing the might of the Black Hepta alone was a daunting prospect, and if given the choice she wanted to keep the Talean duo in as good condition as she could. Leaving Renan with broken ribs and Sorio possibly the same would make them far less useful to the wanderer, and she had enough money to afford a visit to a healer for them even if she didn't need it herself. "I think we'd best get moving.... We're not likely to remain unnoticed for long!" she said after a moment, noting the closeness of the city slums and the bustle of people that lived there. She was fairly distinctive, and didn't want to have to deal with the guards hunting for her for murder. She didn't even bother to loot the corpses, knowing that the mutants wouldn't have anything of value and not wanting to bother looking through the mill for whatever trinkets they might have stored away.

 

[Takimaru]

Re: Gangs of Havenport (Tassadar) GMed by Takimaru

Status:

Spoiler

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

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

The look in the pig-man's eyes as Isolda met them with her own was a rather pitiful one, though he hadn't the eloquence to choose the right sequence of words that would even cause her to consider changing her mind. As such, he met a relatively swift death, doing little other than gurgling blood and clutching at his own throat with stubby hands after the white-haired beauty delivered her finishing move. And he was one of the last. By the time the battle had reached its conclusion, every one of the untouchables were either dying or dead; they were in no shape to survive without immediate medical attention, and considering their location, as well as their position in society, that would never come. The last person to care was, after all, gone.

Sorio rubbed at his opposite shoulder with his right arm, crooking his chin from side to side to work out any kinks he might have acquired during the fight with Berthane. Thanks to his polished defensive maneuvers, he hadn't acquired a single injury while taking on the sharp-clawed mutants--only a light sheen of sweat upon his brow. The hits he had taken from the hulking benefactor of these exiles were the worst that Sorio took since the game of skill involving Isolda herself, and he didn't look terribly concerned with his own injuries. Renan, however, was obviously in poor shape. He nodded weakly in response to the taller woman's inquiry. "We do know a healer. Not far from here, actually... ugh! Just need to walk there," he muttered through clenched teeth.

The boxer proved quite helpful, offering a shoulder to Renan for support as the three headed back towards the slums of Havenport, a tremendous contrast from the eerie silence that the old lumber mill was cloaked in following the heated melee. When they returned, they would be greeted with a few odd stares from the district's unlaundered populace. But thanks to Isolda's intimidating appearance--as well as the ominous and menacing air about her--they made it through one of the less wholesome parts of Havenport undisturbed. As they entered what looked like an international spot of sorts, the Voidic woman would notice quite a few of Sorio and Renan's own race wandering around. While not the majority of Havenport's population, they still had a notable presence, and it may have been something of a wonder to a bystander as to why a supposedly famous boxer and his friend wouldn't be able to get help against a newly established gang like the Black Hepta. However, if Berthane's strength was any yardstick to which the leader's could be measured, then Isolda would realize that it wasn't necessarily numbers that this particular gang relied on.

The shop that the smaller islander led them to was located somewhere between the slums and the less seedy streets of the city, nestled comfortably in a well-lit alleyway. It was run by an older woman, Talean from the looks of it, assisted by a notably beautiful apprentice who looked much like a younger version of herself. They nodded to Sorio and Renan, giving a somewhat odd look towards Isolda at first. After Renan casually directed a few words towards them in a language that the half-elf couldn't understand, their puzzled expressions turned to noticeably more positive ones, and the women waved for Isolda to enter, smiling as if she were a member of their own family. The shaman wasted little time with directing Renan to a nearby cot, feeling about his body and stopping at his ribs when the patient grunted in pain. She said a few words to herself, focusing as a light appeared from between her hands.

At that moment, Isolda would recognize it as gate magic. And while the incantations might have varied from others that she'd seen before, she knew, from the sick feeling in her stomach, that this was Cosmic magic. Used properly, it could restore 'order' to bodies of most, such as humans and elves alike. But the swordswoman's lineage was not that of any other half-elf, as she had a particularly strong Voidic influence within her, from her father's side. The mere aura of the healing spell made her almost nauseous, and she would have to excuse herself before long. Sorio and Renan could tell, and the latter waved her on. "Ah... I will be fine, do not worry. Go on, we will find a place to stay, and meet you near here tomorrow morning, if you want. Thank you, Isolda," said the smaller Talean, mustering a smile as the healer focused energy through his broken ribs. Likewise, Sorio gave her a nod in temporary farewell. While staying was still an option for the wanderer, it wasn't the most comfortable one in the end, and at the very least, a break outside for some fresh air was in order.

Outside, evening had fallen, and Isolda was free to head where she wanted; back to Ciran's place, Samia's tavern, the potions shop, or wherever she fancied. Once she stepped out onto the street, just right of her would lead to the slums. Left of her lay the rest of the international district, filled with various curio shops, teahouses and restaurants serving exotic cuisine from the Eastern continents. But a few blocks down from there would take her back to more familiar sights, where the citizens spoke her language and where she might stand out less, being an individual possessed of pale skin. Either way, there were no shortage of places where she could spend her newly acquired coin.

 

[Tassadar]

Re: Gangs of Havenport (Tassadar) GMed by Takimaru

The journey to the home of the healer that Isolda undertook with Sorio and Renan, while strange in its own right, was not as unusual an occurrence as it might have been to somebody else. She kept her aura relatively higher than usual as they traversed the small section of slums, walking a few paces ahead of Sorio and Renan so that she was seen first and displaying an air of mild violence to ward away and would-be opportunists. Such an act was something she'd practiced dozens of times, and was a tried and true method of preventing fights before they even happened. The trip through Havenport's slums was brief in comparison to what followed, however, and even as traveled as she was, the melting pot that was the port city's international district was an impressive experience in and of itself. While she had been to many places and seen many things, Isolda rarely got the chance to see so many cultures in the same place.

Gremic, Deunic, Greybournian, Talean, and Brevnian all seemed to be mashed together in a tiny stretch of city, and each seemed to be showing their colors against the others in what she'd termed friendly competition when seeing other such places. It was far from an unpleasant sight to the wanderer, and she toned down her aura so as not to disturbed anyone, though she maintained her air of confidence so as to make their journey swifter. Their destination wasn't far at that point, and Isolda followed the two islanders to the shop calmly. The greeting of those within wasn't exactly warm, at least not to her, but a few words in what Isolda presumed was Talean from Renan changed that in short order, and she was allowed in and greeted with smiles. Inside was an older woman whom she presumed (and was subsequently proven right) was the healer that Sorio and Renan had known of, and her quite attractive young apprentice. While there were other things on her mind, Isolda was quite happy to take in the eye candy, particularly given her subject's exotic nature. She'd been more than happy with Sorio and Renan's bedroom.... Well, technically bathroom performance, but that sounded just a bit too filthy to the wanderer's mental ears, and she couldn't help but wonder if the women of their culture were as passionate.

It was neither the time nor the place to find out, however, and Isolda offered no comment as she found a place for herself to sit. Not wanting to waste any time, she slowly drew out her sword, giving a calming look to her hosts so as to display that she intended no violence in doing so, and quickly produced the kit she'd assembled for caring for the weapon from her pack. Oil, a fine and a course whetstone, a polishing stone, a bit of clean oilcloth, and a clamp, all tools useful in the care and repair of her weapon, were quickly set out in front of her, and it was the oil and oilcloth that she went for first. Blood could ruin steel, and while she was usually careful to clean her blade after use, residual particles could still stick to it. Water was almost as bad as blood, and so she oiled and cloth and ran it over her blade repeatedly, cleaning it carefully so as not to cut the cloth or her own flesh while removing the day's detritus. Next came an examination as she checked the blade for scratches, dents, and scuffs, and those she worked out carefully with her coarse whetstone. It was an arduous process, and well before she'd finished the healer started working her magics, causing Isolda's stomach to twist.

The wanderer stopped mid motion, almost ruining her efforts, and looked to the woman with a blank, wide-eyed look. Cosmic gates had had this effect on her before, causing the voidic part of her nature to twist in on itself. Violent urges directed at the woman rose unbidden for her offense, and though Isolda didn't have an impulse control problem, the more magic the woman used to repair Renan, the more unpleasant it became for her to even be in the same room. She tried to ignore it and get back to work, but every time the woman cast a spell she felt a surge of sickness that threatened to override even her constitution. Her motions became sloppy and uncontrolled, and that plus her clearly less than pleased expression was apparently enough to signal her discomfort to her two companions. When Renan waved her off and gave her permission to depart, she considered arguing the point but ultimately discarded it as an act of sheer stubbornness. Nodding and quickly putting away her cleaning kit, Isolda said; "I think that would be best, yes. I'll come and find you around here tomorrow, after I've seen to some other business." Rising to her feet and sheathing her sword, Isolda returned Sorio's nod and then promptly departed.

Once out in the air of the alley, Isolda heaved in a deep breath that she then slowly exhaled, allowing her body to return to a normal state before glancing to either side. One way led to the slums, and the other back to the much more appealing international district, and the choice between the two was a fairly easy one. After being made queasy by the cosmic magics being worked to heal Renan, Isolda found herself both hungry and slightly tired, and that only made the international district all the more appealing. Turning to her left, Isolda headed off at an easy pace, looking about for a decent place to eat. Her homeland of Grem generally favored more simplistic meals, hunted meat and gathered fruit and nuts, and she didn't expect to see anything serving such things in a city. That said, she'd grown accustomed to all sorts of strange fare, and in that frame of mind she smiled and decided to go and look for something new, wandering idly in search of a place that she might find something interesting to eat, though she was conscious of the fact that she'd need to make sure to find somewhere that she could understand at least some of the language.

 

[Takimaru]

Re: Gangs of Havenport (Tassadar) GMed by Takimaru

Status:

Spoiler

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

A stroll through Havenport's international district was a sight on the western continent unlike any other. The sovereign city-state was a melting pot of various nationalities, religions and creeds--one would be hard pressed to find such an assortment of different folk gathered all in a single place. Many of those living here came from the Eastern Continent, where the white-haired wanderer journeyed for several years. People of Talean, Honrainese, Ayonian and Deunic descent were just a few of the imports from across the ocean that settled in the area. Others were from much closer kingdoms, as Grem was just to the north, and Brevnia to the south, though due to their relative proximity, the westerners from those nations were often refugees or convicts on the run, making Havenport a popular place for expatriates. It wasn't difficult to find someone around with a shady or rough past, and in that regard, Isolda fit right in.

Provided, even this part of the city had different blocks on which people of any given origin gathered, showing humans' natural preference to stick to the company of those most relatable to themselves. And as Isolda knew, there was no shortage of gang-based conflicts that occurred behind the scenes. Having spent time in Elynsor's slums, she was streetwise to the signs of such things, however, and managed to steer clear of any immediate trouble as she looked around for a place to eat.

While she knew a few basic phrases in Deunic and the like, the pale half-elf would stick out quite a bit in some of their establishments should she choose to sit down in one, many of which were filled with groups of dark-skinned people who were, as Isolda could tell by the marks on their bodies and their style of clothing, affiliated with larger gangs. Honrainese were known to be far more polite in general, or so it was said, but their food in general was even less familiar to even the well-traveled swordswoman. Just before the woman could really weigh the choices in her head, she spotted a building of familiar architecture on the street corner. It was a restaurant done up in the traditional style of Brevnia; the country where her mother spent a fair amount of years before migrating to Elynsor.

The establishment was painted white with brown scaffolding visible on the outside, and though it had seen its fair share of wear from the weather, the glow from within was undeniably inviting. As Isolda entered, she could feel the drastic shift from the constant, cool breeze outside to a warmer, slightly stuffy atmosphere within the eatery, but a pleasant one nonetheless. The patrons of this particular joint were visibly cheerful, thanks to quite a bit of beer served around the tables, and of course, the smell of delicious food wafted through the air straight to her nose. A somewhat thick waitress, possessed of braided brown hair and calm yet captivating grey eyes, was the first to greet her, and gave her a polite nod before leading the wanderer to her table. It was a casual atmosphere, perhaps somewhat less refined than others, given the slightly rickety seats which would require Isolda to set her luggage against the wall next to her.

Still, the staff was friendly enough, providing the white-haired guest with a mug of spiced water, a simple menu, and a brief introduction. "Hello, I am Letta," she greeted, with a much quieter voice than what one might guess of her. She also spoke with a noticeably thick Brevnian accent, though it wasn't one Isolda couldn't understand; if anything, it was closer to that of the way her mother pronounced things. "Welcome to the Trost Inn. Here is your menu. If I may recommend our special for today, lamb roasted with vinegar and salt. Alternatively, this week we also have salted longfish with whiteloaf, meat pies, vegetable soup and sparrsnap sprouts served with sausage. And of course, a selection of fine drafts," she offered, motioning to a plethora of bottles lined up along the far wall where the bar awaited. "All from Brevnia. The latest that guests have been enjoying is one made with birnefruit, and another with blue oats, but we have more run-of-the-mill drafts, if you aren't interested in trying anything too... ah, strange," added the server. "I will be near when you are ready to order."

Letta, while certainly not as pretty or immediately engaging as the strangely stunning Samia, still managed a sweet smile towards Isolda worth returning. She took the customer's order right then and there if the other woman chose not to deliberate too much on her possible choices. Otherwise, she would return to her in a timely manner when she was ready.

A look around would tell Isolda that she had come to quite a nice place, far removed from the troubles and dealings in some of the less savory joints she had passed by in the district. The rough bar that Sorio and Renan took her to came to mind, as did the Ebonstone. Compared to those places, this restaurant was like a different world. No one here watched their backs the way she might have been accustomed to; they immersed themselves completely in laughter and drink. Places like these did exist in the hectic city of Havenport, so it seemed.

 

[Tassadar]

Re: Gangs of Havenport (Tassadar) GMed by Takimaru

It took Isolda only a short time to pick out a suitable place to eat, a Brevnian place with a casual atmosphere, but one that didn't hold the sense of vague threat that places like the Ebonstone and the bar to which Renan and Sorio had taken her earlier. She wasn't exactly unfamiliar with such places, nor even particularly uncomfortable given that it was the sort of environment in which those of her nature tended to thrive, but having a break from for a place in which she could relax a bit more was exactly what the swordswoman wanted after the violent day she'd had. "Hello Letta!" she replied brightly to the serving woman upon being seated, setting her pack and sheathed sword against the wall behind her, both in easy reach such that they wouldn't be tampered with. She didn't offer the accented woman her own name in turn, knowing that it wasn't necessary for the transaction taking place, and took a sip of her spiced water and mused for a second or two on how much the server's manner of speaking reminded her of her mother. Those were memories largely filled with pain for Isolda, but she was well past it by this point in her life, and broke form her ruminations to listen to the woman's recommendations.

"I think I'll try the birnefruit draft. I like strange, and Brevnian isn't that unfamiliar to me anyway!" she stated with a return on the woman's smile. She wasn't quite as attractive as Samia, at least in a physical sense, but she was confident and possessed of a pleasant attitude, and that ensured that Isolda viewed her in a positive light. "As for food... I'll take your recommendation and have the daily special! It sounds delicious," she added immediately, not needing to think much on her order. Isolda wasn't a picky eater, and anything with meat in it would be good enough for her.

 

[Takimaru]

Re: Gangs of Havenport (Tassadar) GMed by Takimaru

Status:

Spoiler

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

"Oh?" replied the server to Isolda's response on the topic of Brevnian drink. "A good choice! Brevnian beer is the continent's best," she proclaimed with no shortage of confidence, adding, "and the lamb is a great price, as well--3 gold for the special, plus 1 for the draft." She then gave the wanderer a nod and a customary smile, a set identical to the one she had offered before as a welcoming gesture, before retreating to the kitchen to deliver the order.

Left alone for the time being, the swordswoman would find the inn's ambience as a pleasant change of pace from the Havenport she had experienced earlier in the day, and even the night before. If there was ever a time for her to relax, it would be now, with everyone merry and full of drink. Not a single fight, or even an interaction that came close to a confrontation between patrons arose. If anything, the only issue someone in Isolda's position might have faced here was a loneliness of sorts, as there were a fair amount of guests tonight, and yet none of them dared approach her, though she earned no foul looks despite that odd distance between her and the others. Save for Letta's well-mannered attentions, it was almost as if the half-elf was merely part of the background; something of an rare occurrence in most cities, where the Voidic descendant's unique brand of beauty would, at the very least, earn her an extended look or two.

But, just as the wilderness of Grem had, the Trost Inn's customers left Isolda alone to contemplate, until her train of thought was broken by the brunette waitress, who arrived with a foaming mug full of beer and a plate with the day's special--salted lamb, smelling faintly of vinegar, on a bed of fluffy rice with a pile of green beans on the side. The food was as good as it looked, made even more delicious thanks to the intense hunger that Isolda had built up over the day. The beverage that came along with it was no disappointment, either, as far as quality went. The birnefruit draft, or so it was called, was a darker shade of amber, with a reddish tint to it. The crisp, light aroma proved only gave a minor hint to the more intense flavor, which was somewhat tart, though that flavor balanced itself out properly with the right amount of hoppiness.

Thanks to the great quality of Isolda's meal, it went down very easily, leaving her with an empty plate before long, as the fare was passable even for the pickiest of eaters. At that time, Letta would return in a timely manner, carrying an impressed look after seeing the other woman's healthy appetite. "My! I hope it was good for you," remarked the Brevnian woman. "Do you have much of a sweet tooth? We have pillyrhine pie for dessert, if you wish, at one extra coin." From there, Isolda could choose to take the server up on her offer, request seconds, or simply pay her bill--a total of 4 gold--and look to visit Ciran or wherever she might fancy first.

 

[Tassadar]

Re: Gangs of Havenport (Tassadar) GMed by Takimaru

"I'll be looking forward to giving both a try then!" Isolda replied, giving the waitress an earnest smile and nodding to her in turn as she departed to see to her order. Left alone for a time, Isolda couldn't help but be satisfied with her good fortune in finding this place. Its prices were reasonable, its service was good, its selection was impressive, and its atmosphere was pleasantly tranquil and offered her a much-needed respite from being the center of attention, as she generally was. As unusually as she was, and despite that she'd relaxed her aura as much as she consciously could, Isolda was being left entirely alone by the other patrons at the bar, and as tired and hungry as she was, she most definitely didn't mind that. The place was noisy and bustling, but the interactions between the other patrons were good natured and friendly, free of the violent territorial-ism prevalent in many of the seedier establishments that she normally frequented. The relaxed nature of it all allowed Isolda to relax in turn, and the more she did so the more her supernatural aura relaxed, and even began to fall into its more alluring direction.

Letta returned shortly with a frothing mug and her food, something of a surprise. She'd expected to have to wait on the food, at least on a little while, but given how ravenously hungry she was it was difficult for Isolda to muster any sort of complaint. "Excellent! It looks amazing! Thank you!" she said to her waitress before promptly digging in. The wanderer had led a hand-to-mouth lifestyle for the entirety of her life, and had often been forced to eat quickly, particularly in her youth as a street urchin, and her current hunger after all the fighting she'd done during the day was enough to make her absolutely ravenous when she went to eating. Her meal was devoured in short order, though she managed to enjoy the taste of the succulent meat at least a little bit before it was all gone. The beer she enjoyed a bit more, or at least what was left of it after her first gulp. She'd downed half of the mug before setting to her food, and now she simply enjoyed sipping at it until Letta returned, finding the taste to be to her liking.

"Heh, I guess I was hungrier than I thought! It was all wonderful though, I assure you!" she replied mirthfully to the tavern maid, thoguh then Isolda was left to contemplate the offer of desert. She'd burned a lot of energy slaughtering her way through two of the Black Hepta members and their assorted minions, and though her stomach was nearly full, a little bit more couldn't hurt. It was rare that she had the money to spare for treats, and indulging her sweet tooth a little bit before she went off for her planned after-dinner fun with her locksmith didn't sound like it would hurt her any. "Sure," she replied evenly, "I'll have a slice of pie!" Given how good the lamb and beer had been, Isolda would have been surprised indeed if it was of poor quality, and if it was as good as she suspected the wanderer would leave her maid a fairly generous tip. Her meal has cost her a total of five coins, and after Letta had taken away her pie plate she'd reach for the coin pouch on her belt and leave eight gold sitting on the table and walked out.

Afterwards, however, Isolda would retrieve her gear and head straight for Ciran's place of business, where he'd told her to go earlier that day. It wasn't a particularly difficult part of town to navigate, and she took the least dangerous road she could think of to get there, not wanting to spoil her good mood with more violence before she arrived at her lover's door.

 

[Takimaru]

Re: Gangs of Havenport (Tassadar) GMed by Takimaru

Status:

Spoiler

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

Despite the conscious lowering of her Voidic air, Isolda found no immediate attempts by the other patrons, most of whom seemed preoccupied with laughter and drink, to approach her. Perhaps it was her armor, or the various weapons lined up against the wall, though carrying such arms wasn't an extremely uncommon sight in the city. On the other hand, there were also no signs that she was deliberately being ignored, as other guests had seats of their own and dined in relative isolation, apparently content to immerse themselves in the bright atmosphere. As she ate, she could even feel a few of them casting lingering glances in her direction, though none had the courage to approach such a rare beauty.

Letta looked all too pleased at the armored stranger's apparent cheerfulness, which only helped contribute to the overall mood. "Wonderful! I shall return shortly with your dessert, then," assured the waitress, flashing her usual smile to carry out the customer's closing order. Isolda was then left alone for a few more minutes to be alone with her thoughts--as well as to be the perhaps unwitting subject of a visual fantasy or two--before the server returned in short order, with a small plate of pie.

Pillyrhine, as it was called, was recognized by Isolda to be a small, aggregate fruit native to Brevnian forests, very sweet and just slightly sour with a very distinctive aftertaste, but a pleasant one nonetheless. This quality left those who particularly enjoyed the fruit satisfied for some time after tasting it, while having the opposite effect for those who didn't. As a dessert loaded with much of the fruit, the pie itself was quite good, as the wanderer expected. While somewhat messy, with the crust a bit broken at the top, a loss of presentation points if anything, the treat tasted much better than it looked.

With her tip left on the table, Isolda was free to leave the establishment without incident. The waitress appeared busy attending to a few others at the time, but she did manage to check the table as the swordsman reached the exit, and could be seen with a wide-eyed look. "Thank you so much!" she called out, hoping that the stranger would hear her as she departed. Overall, the Trost Inn was a cozy little place, and while it didn't bring the advances that Isolda might have been used to in somewhat seedier establishments, it proved to be a decent enough setting for when she needed to relax and take some time to herself.

~~~~~​

The next destination on her list was the Ciran's locksmith shop, which she found again without much trouble. The street on which it was located was eerily quiet tonight. Though it was getting somewhat late, easily two or three hours past when most had finished their dinner, he was still wide awake, judging from the lights that were on inside. When Isolda entered, she would find that there was no one else in the building at the moment, save for the brown-haired smith, who appeared to be staring down at a stubborn locking device on the counter that he was attempting to configure. "Damn... things," he muttered to himself. "C-Can't wait to--" He looked up just in time to see none other than the white-haired wanderer at his door, and it didn't take long for him to develop a smile from that alone, making no attempt to hide his excitement. "Isolda! I uh, I'm so glad you're here," he greeted, beaming and immediately putting down the half-assembled lock he had previously been tinkering with. She was clearly the center of his attention now.

"Have you eaten yet? I know it's a bit late, but I can close up shop if you like," offered the man, likely expecting a similar routine as the night before. Thanks to her keen ears, Isolda could catch the sounds of a few footsteps outside growing louder as they approached, hinting the presence of a rare traveler upon the otherwise empty street.

 

[Tassadar]

Re: Gangs of Havenport (Tassadar) GMed by Takimaru

While she didn't take the time to fully stop, Isolda did turn and flash Letta a brief smile as she walked out. She'd have to keep the Trost Inn in mind if she needed someplace to eat again during her stay in Havenport. In the meantime, however, she had someplace to be.

~~~~~~~~~​

Arriving at Ciran's shop, Isolda was unsurprised to find the place still open, and didn't allow the slightly eery silence to bother her as she strode up to the door. Heading inside, she found Ciran working on a lock of some manner, and though he didn't notice her entrance immediately he was quick to pick up on her presence. She'd been grinning eagerly when she'd walked in, her body already starting to prime itself for the intentions she had for him, and his muttering while working on his project only caused her to grin more broadly as she hazarded a mental guess at what he was so eager for.

"Good evening Ciran~ I hope you've been thinking about me~" she greeted the locksmith brightly, striding deeper into his shop and pausing after roughly halving the distance between them. "I already ate," she replied, idly putting a hand on her hip, "...But if you haven't then I wouldn't mind going somewhere with you." It was about then that the approaching footsteps registered to Isolda, and she glanced outside expecting to see someone, or perhaps a group of someones, walking in at any moment. "I think you might have a customer on the way~ Don't worry though!" she added as she walked up to the counter with a sensual strut. When she reached him, Isolda reached out and grabbed Ciran with both hands, placing one on the back of his head to tangle into his dark hair and the other on one of his shoulders, and bent slightly as she yanked him toward her so that they would meet roughly in the middle of the counter.

When they did, Isolda closed her eyes and kissed Ciran deeply on the mouth, forcing her tongue past his lips to engage his in a vigorous dance. She held him there with an iron grip for a long moment, rewarding him with a soft, lustful moan if he responded with sufficient passion to impress her, and when she finally did pull away it was to look into the locksmith's eyes and say, in a low sultry purr; "I'll be patient~" With that she released him and leaned away, allowing the undoubtedly flustered locksmith to recover while she took a step back and away from the counter and glanced towards the door into Ciran's shop.

 

[Takimaru]

Re: Gangs of Havenport (Tassadar) GMed by Takimaru

Status:

Spoiler

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

"A-Ah, uhhhuh..." stuttered Ciran, his eyes fixed on those of the Voidic woman for the most part, only breaking contact to take in her beautiful form once more, of which even the warrior's functional armor could do relatively little to hide. Setting the device down--which Isolda noticed to be an odd cuff of sorts--the smith couldn't help but wear the delight that came from seeing her on his sleeve, likely in great anticipation of the next time they would be able to enjoy each others' company. Hopefully that would be soon, as far as the locksmith was concerned, and this promise was bolstered when Isolda approached him with an inviting, irresistible air--not that he could ever hope to resist her in the first place. "I did too," he answered in reply to Isolda's claim that she had her meal for the night. "I was just checking if you have, because I'm definitely willing to treat you, if you need it, ahheh... I mean--mmpff!"

His less coherent ramblings towards the end of his response were cut short by the woman's passionate and somewhat spontaneous gesture, and Ciran made no argument against her pulling him in for the sudden embrace. Isolda found no resistance when she forced her tongue into the man's mouth, instead finding that her lover was all too willing to mirror her motions, releasing a small groan as he welcomed her display of affection. He responded by sliding his own lingual muscle against hers, then gently thrust it in between the half-elf's softly lips before pulling it halfway out and repeating the process slowly, as if mimicking the motions he wished to make when their bodies were to be intertwined later on in the night, with any luck. How he craved to be inside her once again, to achieve sweet bliss within her quivering depths, and to taste of her nourishing milk. The sentiment of wanting, or even needing, to satisfy more carnal urges was practically contagious, as Isolda could feel her own sex drive elevating by at least a notch or two thanks to Ciran's immediate willingness to respond in kind.

After all, it wasn't as if the locksmith hadn't realized what a catch he made the other night. Even the girls at the Silver Quarters had strict policies on what a given customer could do with them. But not Isolda; when aware that their first coupling was to happen, she even invited a random, beautiful girl to join them for an experience more wonderful than the brown-haired craftsman could even afford in a month. As if that wasn't enough, in her Voidic-driven state of lust, she willingly allowed the man to release his potent seed inside of her, and as much of it as he wanted--an act that would incur hefty fines at most brothels if the right price, which was often a high one, hadn't been paid. This 'favor' to Ciran wasn't something he would easily forget, and Isolda would even find him a bit bolder this time around with the way his hands explored. However, the shopkeeper was too lost in the moment to realize what she was wearing at the time, and his hands were soon stopped by her cold, hard armor as they traced up her midsection to the underside of her bust.

Isolda then pulled away, and her promise to be patient only appeared to excite Ciran further and fuel his own impatience in turn. He managed a sheepish, somewhat pained grin as the approaching customers finally made it to the door. "Ahem. It's getting fairly close to closing time, but if it's just a simple repair, I can do it now, or an order for a custom lock, I'd be glad to carry it out for you within maybe a few days or so..." he explained pre-emptively. While it probably wasn't his best attempt at customer service, it was plain to see that his mind was on other things at the moment. Then, his smile faded just slightly as he recognized those who entered.

Three men, probably Deunic or Ayonian in origin, dressed in dark-colored clothes with matching headwraps, entered the building. The first, a single pace ahead of the others, looked directly towards Ciran with a stern expression. He plodded up to the counter while his two cohorts followed. They gave Isolda a passing glance, and an odd look at the staff-like weapon stowed on her back, but little more than that before getting down to business.

"You know what we're 'ere for. To pick up an order. It's been 2 days overdue by now. Or were you even aware? I think we've been more than kind to you. We need those special locks for some important.. cargo, and we need them to work just as we specified."

"Ahaha, hello, Abon!" greeted the locksmith with a nervous laugh. "Well, I was a bit preoccupied the past few nights, but ah, it's almost done, so I can have it to you by tomorrow night..." he started.

"Doesn't look finished to me," the stranger interrupted with an accusing glare, after having reached over the counter and picked up the half-complete device that Ciran was working on earlier. "What, is that it? Hrmph! We paid you in advance for this project because you said you needed the materials. If you don't have these done--all of them--by tomorrow, we'll be taking that money back. Or whatever is worth as much," threatened the darker-skinned man and setting the cuff-shaped lock down on the front counter before turning his back to the shopkeeper. Ciran fought to hold a smile, though couldn't for long, as the trio gave Isolda one last look before making their way out.

 

[Tassadar]

Re: Gangs of Havenport (Tassadar) GMed by Takimaru

Isolda honestly couldn't have been happier with Ciran's response to her kiss, and though if view objectively the motions of his tongue were perhaps a bit on the lewdly comical side of things, in the moment they served to inflame her lusts exactly the way she wanted. Though she concentrated her attention on the sensations emanating from her mouth, she felt his hands wandering over her armored body as she kissed him, and that was certainly enough to earn a lust-filled moan from the voidic woman as she imagined his touch against her bare skin instead of her armor. It was certainly enough to get her ready to feel the real thing, but as primed as she was to get out of her armor and into Ciran's lap, the wanderer was conscious of their impending company, and thus pulled away before she got herself too horny to resist her urges.

When she pulled away and spotted the man's obvious eagerness for more, her grin twitched wider in delight for an instant before she took a few more steps away and looked back to see a group coming into her lover's shop. Ciran started with a somewhat hasty version of what sounded like his usual greeting, but he it became readily apparent that the trio that stepped in were known to him... And that he didn't see them in a particularly positive light. Given the nature of Havenport and its inhabitants, she wasn't particularly surprised, and almost expected the trio to try and extort him regardless of her presence. That wasn't how it played out, thankfully, but as she watched the three of them stroll up she noticed the odd look they gave to Berthane's weapon where it hung from her back. Inwardly, Isolda suddenly tensed at the odd look, her mind whirling quickly through what that might mean, though she very carefully betrayed none of it with her expression or her stance. 'What was that for? They couldn't possibly have recognized Berthane's staff.... Could they? Maybe they just thought it looked odd?' she thought silently to herself, and as they tromped up to Ciran's counter she flashed them a smile and said; "See something you like? It belonged to my grandfather!"

She carefully spoke it in a tone much brighter than what she'd normally use, trying to sound a bit more empty-headed and naive as she uttered the lie, an easy one to think up on the spot. She didn't expect any sort of reply from the trio, but it felt prudent at the time to make herself seem less threatening to them while they dealt with the locksmith, which would hopefully give her time to gather herself. Their exchange with Ciran, revealing the name of their apparent leader and their purpose, was even more revealing than Isolda had thought it might be. They were obviously criminals judging merely by their reactions to others, but what they said revealed several things. Firstly, that they were slavers, or at least she surmised as much, and secondly, they didn't put much effort into hiding it. They turned promptly after finishing with Ciran, leaving the locksmith looking more than a little bit disconcerting, but as they headed out she opted to try a bit of intervention.

"Ahhh, don't be so hard on poor Ciran!" the voidic woman said, turning up the aura that she'd momentarily subdued to keep herself from garnering too much attention. Attention was exactly what she wanted, however, and Isolda kept her aura as far in the alluring side as she could. Men like these rarely reacted well to being held up, and hopefully that and her appearance would keep them from being too offended, as she hardly wanted to start a fight in Ciran's shop. Smiling and keeping her voice set in the same bright, friendly, air-headed manner that she'd greeted the strangers with, Isolda quickly continued; "I'm sure he'll be finished in time~ If you can give me an address, I could even deliver them right to you when he's done! That way you wouldn't even have to come back out here from... Wherever it is that you came from! Full delivery, free of charge! How can yah beat that?"

Regardless of their reaction, Isolda wouldn't let the trio's interruption bother her overly much. If they actually answered her question, there was a good chance she'd get the opportunity to slaughter a group of slavers tomorrow, a prospect that never failed to bring joy to the voidic woman's heart given her personal history with that sort of person. That said, she had a very different sort of joy to look forward to, and with Ciran's customers gone she was eager to get to it. Turning to the locksmith, Isolda smiled and said; "Clients of yours? I do hope you haven't gotten yourself into trouble.... But I digress. How about you close up shop and show me to the bed room?" Her voice dripped with suggestiveness, and she waited as patiently as she could for the man to lock up the shop and lead her into his room.

When they arrived, Isolda took a glance around and smiled. Ciran's personal quarters were simple enough, holding a bed, a desk, a chair, and little else of real note. It wasn't large, but it was big enough for her to start getting ideas. First, however.... "C'mere~" she purred, and grabbed Ciran only to slam him (gently) against the nearest wall and pressed herself up against his chest. One leg slowly rose up, and she grabbed one of his hands and guided it to the swell of her leather-clad bottom while pushing her mouth against his once more, engaging him in another long, deep kiss for several long moments. She normally wasn't this affectionate, if one could use such a word for her actions, but the longer she was around him the more comfortable she found herself with Ciran. Deep and pleasurable as her embrace was, however, Isolda had plans for the locksmith, and after a while the insistent call of her lust caused her to break the kiss. As she'd kissed him, Isolda had slowly started undoing his shirt, and as she pulled away she extracted him from it entirely.

Once he was half naked, she grabbed him by the hand and pulled him across the room, to his desk and - more importantly - the chair sitting behind it. She kicked it into a position conducive to what she had in mind next and then promptly pushed him right into it. Leaning over him, Isolda kissed Ciran again, slowly and deeply, and this time she invited his tongue to explore her mouth instead of invading his. The kiss was brief, at least compared to the one she'd given him next to the door, and when she pulled away from it she put a single finger against his lips and whispered; "Stay!" Holding that one finger up, she sauntered away a few steps and then stopped and turned fully away from him. She had to lose a few things before she could do what she wanted, and so her hands started to move quickly, removing her weapons and setting them against the wall next to his bed one by one, followed by her pack, and then she turned her head to smile at Ciran over her shoulder when her cloak came off, leaving her in just her chestplate, her greaves, her boots, her bracers, and her underclothes.

Slowly, Isolda began to sway her hips back and forth, stressing her voluptuous bottom against the stiff leather, and drawing the eye naturally to the pale skin on her thighs. She was glad that her wounds had been healed by her magic, as having to explain those would have been annoying and subtracted from her enjoyment for the night greatly. She'd still have some blood on her, but it would hopefully not be too bad since her plate had taken the brunt of Berthane's strike. Swaying her hips, Isolda kept her eyes on Ciran while she undid the fastenings of her plate, and all too soon she pulled the plate and its padding off and away as she arched her back, leaving her clad only in the loose cloth wrap that she kept underneath it and leaving the curvature of her spine as it descended towards her hips fully defined. She had a pleasant hourglass figure, wider at her shoulders and hips than at her waist, and though Isolda had seen women with more difference between extremes than she, she at least had a roughly even width at her shoulder as she did at her hip.

Spreading her legs and partially turning to put herself at an angle, Isolda rolled her hips in slow circles and brought her hands up to her chest, giving Ciran a glimpse of the curve of one of her breasts as well as displaying the swell of her ass even beneath her tight leather skirt. The armor she wore was often confining, and her bosom often appreciated a good rubbing to get the soreness out. As such, when she ran a hand over her chest, the low moan she let out wasn't faked, both because of the soreness that she worked to relieve and because the tips of her breasts were already erect beneath their clothy prison. Bend forward and rotating a bit at the waste, Isolda bit her lip and ran her hands over her ample bosom several times for Ciran's viewing pleasure, letting out a low whimper every time her fingers passed over her nipples. She soon tired of that, however, and when she turned and strutted toward him it would be plain that her actions had pushed the cloth aside to partially expose the excited tips of her breasts, which had left tiny stains on the white fabric where her milk had leaked out. As she walked toward him, she undid the wrapping around her chest slowly, and as such when she reached the chair she'd left him in the whole thing came undone and simply dropped down.

The pale, creamy skin of her chest fully exposed, Isolda didn't let Ciran get his hands on her just yet. Reaching under her skirt with one hand, Isolda slowly pulled her panties down her legs, displaying a light damp spot where they'd been pressing against her petals, and once they were down past her knees she released them and straightened, maintaining eye contact all the while. She then straddled Ciran and slowly lowered herself into his lap, her skirt hiking up to allow for the position as she pushed her breasts towards his face, her hands settling onto his shoulders as she began grinding slowly against his manhood in a motion he would find fairly reminiscent of when she'd been riding him only a single night ago. With the soft orbs with which he was so enamored pushed right into his face, Isolda fully expected Ciran to go to town, but any attempts to touch her breasts would be promptly denied, Isolda pushing his hands away with her own and pulling away if he tried to use his mouth. Only when he looked up at her in confusion or with desperate want would Isolda relent in her teasing and push her breasts to within easy reach of his lips and coo; "Suck~"

 

[Takimaru]

Re: Gangs of Havenport (Tassadar) GMed by Takimaru

Status:

Spoiler

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

At her comment regarding the staff she acquired from Berthane, one of the men furrowed his brow at Isolda, giving her a somewhat rude look despite her smile as if her explanation was somehow uncalled for. He didn't make a habit of staring, however, and the ice-breaker succeeded in earning the swordswoman a degree of temporary dismissal from that member of the trio as they resumed their dealings with Ciran. His cohort on the far side did take the opportunity to flash an impressed grin towards Isolda after noticing the alluring beauty of this random stranger, perhaps fancying her cheerful tone or just her style after having taken a second look.

At the very least, she had succeeded in making herself seem like less of a threat to the group, who walked as if they had nothing to fear despite carrying little more than curved daggers sheathed at their belts. In addition, she didn't sense any of them as being particularly strong, at least not in comparison to herself, though the locksmith did have reason to be diplomatic. This generally meant one of two things; that they were either high-class, with good connections--which was unlikely given their attire--or, more likely, a part of one of Havenport's many gangs.

The trio turned to Isolda, somewhat sharply, after she made her brief remark in Ciran's defense. Their leader turned with a frown, made somewhat instinctively, though that expression soon faded after he got a better look at her features. The adjustments that the Voidic woman made to her aura earned her the expected reactions this time around, as the one that she guessed to be the 'head' of the group sizing her up and down without so much as a hint of shame. All three certainly were not shy when it came to staring. And while Ciran himself certainly couldn't blame them for enjoying the eye candy, it didn't mean he was happy about it, given his uncomfortable look when they focused their attentions on the wanderer.

"Hrm. So you're a deliverywoman, then? Do you work for this man?" he asked, hitching a thumb in the smith's direction. "Though, it doesn't matter, I'd take you even if you weren't, heh. Yes, please do that," he added, half-grinning with a sideways glance towards Ciran. "He won't mind if you come and... enjoy our hospitality, I'm sure. You'll find us at the west port, the Oserra Debtors' Guild, near warehouse six. The name's Abon. Yours?" After Isolda gave her answer, if any, he left a parting comment for her before heading towards the door. "Looking forward to your delivery, heh!" With that, the man and his guards finally left the shop, leaving Ciran looking a bit flustered, his fists clenched on the counter.

Isolda's smile helped ease Ciran's somewhat angry expression. It was one that she hadn't seen on him before, as he never directed any such emotions towards her. With his apparent frustration came an easily noticeable feeling of helplessness. He had no choice but to answer to them; such was his profession. However, it was clear that he didn't particularly enjoy dealing with these types, nor did he have the mind to put forth honest effort in a request he couldn't agree with.

"No, I... I haven't. They should be the ones in trouble, but the constables of this city do nothing about it," he exclaimed in response to her inquiry about whether or not he had gotten into trouble, with more conviction in his tone than usual. "It's all politics, in almost any profession one happens to fall in," added the smith, with a degree of thoughtfulness Isolda hadn't seen in him before. The Ciran that she was familiar with, from what she knew of him, was utterly hormonal and something of a lecher, albeit not a terribly unbearable one, who could only focus on her beauty and spoke of little else. She might have been accustomed to such mindsets made around her by now, given her alluring Voidic nature--she simply had that effect on most people.

"But don't worry about it. Once I get it all finished tomorrow, it will all pass for the time being. And you don't have to uh, deliver anything to them. I'm sure you can handle yourself, but few gangs in this city are worth crossing. The few left are just waiting to be consumed by the larger organizations," he explained.

But the swordswoman's magic words, 'bedroom', brought Ciran out of that state of mind fairly quickly, and his focus returned to what he had been anticipating for quite some time, a passionate session with his favorite acquaintance. He couldn't fight the smile that formed upon his lips and showed visible haste in moving from behind the counter to the main entrance. He locked the deadbolts upon it, then while retaining that amusingly giddy look of his, led her upstairs by the hand to his room. It was, as she might have expected, a simple little affair fit for an artisan, having little more than the basics. Even his bed wasn't particularly large, with just enough room for the two of them to fit on comfortably, but it would do its job.

It didn't take much, not that it ever did, for Isolda to get the locksmith to approach her once they were in the bedroom, as Ciran wasn't about to object to what would no doubt be the beginning of a very fun night for him. As she pinned him to the wall, the man responded with fevered motions of his own, meeting her halfway in an urgent, albeit somewhat sloppy kiss. He pushed his hips against hers and slid a hand down to the knee of the leg she hiked up on him, working along her thigh until he found the side of her rump, then eagerly gripping it as he continued, deepening the embrace that their lips made. Shifting his shoulders and arms just enough, he maneuvered them as necessary to allow the Voidic beauty to remove his shirt with greater haste, and it came off within seconds.

The locksmith allowed Isolda to guide him into the simple wooden chair not far from his bed, sitting right down onto it and showing her an interested grin. He quickly took her invitation to be the aggressor in the kiss that followed, taking in her addictive scent as he tasted her lips and tongue, nearly mad with want. It wasn't nearly as long as he would have liked, however, and he wore a longing look as the swordswoman pulled away from him to break the kiss short. He'd have followed her up, too, if not for her well-timed command, but he did successfully fight against his initial tendency to keep on her in order to properly obey the quarter-demon's commands. "Y-Yes!" he stuttered in response, straightening his back as he sat straight up.

Ciran's eyes could be seen following Isolda's every movement as she started by removing her cloak, bolstering his level of anticipation with the striptease. While his eyes did linger long enough on her bloodstained plate to notice, he certainly wasn't about to spoil the mood with any inquiries about the origin of such smears, and for the most part looked content to enjoy the show that she had so kindly put on for him. Her voluptuous hourglass figure was an easy one for him to appreciate, with the gawk and smile upon his face being an expression that would stick as he scanned her fine form with his green eyes. "By Erion, you look amazing," commented the artisan, his growing erection unable to hide itself any longer, forming a dome-topped tent at his crotch. Not that Isolda ever had the issue of feeling unwanted around him--or ever would, from the looks of it. Every motion that she made had Ciran's eyes following her body faithfully, upon any part she so wished to highlight during her little tease.

By the time the Voidic beauty had done away with her top completely, the man's lower lip was quivering in anticipation, his hands doing the same to a lesser extent. There she was again, her ample bosom in all its glory, of which Ciran was obviously no small fan of. He had thought about them all day, and to even have her in his presence tonight was something like the high from an utterly addictive drug. His previous fixation with the woman from the brothel looked to have been completely replaced with thoughts of Isolda over the course of just a day, and the opportunity to savor her all to himself was here. He couldn't have looked happier. The only thing that could make the show even better for him was the ability to touch her--but thanks to Isolda's swift denial, he would begrudgingly comply while releasing a groan of lust and slight frustration.

The man didn't miss the telltale dark spot on Isolda's underwear as she slipped them off, which only caused his grin to widen as she closed in on him. Regardless of the level of subtlety, none of Isolda's efforts to arouse him went to waste. When she brushed her exposed cunny against the straining tent of his crotch, Ciran grunted, causing its tip to twitch a few times, with his manhood practically begging for freedom from its fabric confines. His gaze flitted between the woman's own eyes and her enormous assets. At first, he tried touching them with his hands, but when his attempts failed, he resorted to his mouth to get at her leaking nubs. Naturally, it wasn't too difficult for Isolda to be even more of a tease by fending off his advances towards her chest, though she could tell that he was really trying desperately for such a simple progression. The growing look of confusion and frustration upon his face was quite a memorable one, perhaps pitiful enough to get the wanderer to allow him a chance at what he had longed to do.

And when she did, he made no attempt to suppress his obvious hunger and immediately clamped down with his lips, upon one of her erect nipples, stimulating the other between his fingertips. Opening wide enough to cover the entire areola, he traced his tongue in a circle around the hardened tip, gently squeezing the undersides of her breasts to coax the milky fluid out of them, alternating every half-minute or so. Ciran wasn't quite as skilled as Renan nor as physically strong as Sorio when it came to more intimate activities such as this one. But if there was ever an advantage he had as a lover over the two Taleans, it was that his need, his want for her, was intense enough to practically be felt by the white-haired beauty. This feeling in turn was actually somewhat contagious, doing its part in getting Isolda worked up to as well.

He went on for several minutes, or until she stopped him, his lips puckering as he gradually added more suction to the motions, providing the Voidic beauty with an oddly satisfying draining feeling. As Isolda's body worked to replace what had been given, Ciran continued to suckle at her teat, clearly enjoying the flavor of her nourishing fluid. His eyes rolled upward to meet hers, checking her reaction to his fervent milking of her tits while his erect rod, still covered by his trousers, brushed back and forth along the woman's inner thigh thanks to the gentle rocking motions made between the two of them.

After an extended period of stimulation to the swordswoman's upper body, he released her almost painfully hard nipple from between his lips. Then, he shifted to using broader strokes with his tongue, manually mashing Isolda's breasts together and licking at the tip of one, then the other, to make the most out of the chance she granted him. While his throbbing erection was still obvious, the locksmith was not one to complain about this kind of foreplay, especially when it involved his partner's beautiful bosom. It looked as if he would be content there for a while, treating himself to Isolda's milk, and her to some consistent stimulation in turn. This would continue until she literally pulled him off or found a way to progress, seeing as Ciran had taken to heart her command to 'suck'.

 

[Tassadar]

Re: Gangs of Havenport (Tassadar) GMed by Takimaru

“Freelance,” Isolda corrected the slaver, keeping her tone bright so as to maintain her façade of foolishness. “I’ll be looking forward to your company then! I’m sure it’ll be quite… Pleasurable… For all of us~” the wanderer added, and then waved them off before turning back to Ciran. The locksmith’s distress was both flattering and unsurprising, and while her cruel streak urged her to have a bit of fun at his expense for it Isolda resisted that and instead said; “Don’t worry about them~ I’ve handled men far more dangerous than those three buffoons before.” This was a side of Ciran that she hadn’t seen yet, and while she was certainly fond of the man, Isolda didn’t fool herself into thinking that she knew him well.

“Ahhh, so they’re the local muscle? I suspected as much… Such men pop up everywhere, and they seem all too common here,” she said thoughtfully, though her mind traveled more in the realm of how surprisingly insightful her lover was proving himself. Most wouldn’t think nearly as much of the system that they lived under, and would simply accept it or try to circumvent it as the case might be, but Ciran proved to have put some thought into things. After he’d passed off his own concerns, she grinned and said; “Don’t worry about me~ I’m actually looking forward to ensuring that you don’t have any more problems with that bunch. Just let me run the delivery over tomorrow, and you'll not have to worry about them any longer~”

Of course, then came time to drag him into the bedroom which he was almost comically happy to do, pausing only long enough to close up his shop….

~~~~~~~~~​

A low, primal scream of lust and pleasure burst past Isolda’s lips when Ciran did as she instructed, at long last clamping his mouth onto one of her breasts. While her constant lactation when aroused despite that she wasn’t with child was definitely unusual, she had come to accept it as part of her unusual anatomy long ago, and none of her numerous partners had ever complained about it after tasting her milk. Ciran certainly seemed to love it, and she took great enjoyment in having the fluid drawn out of her sensitive pink nubs. Her milk streamed out easily, staining his fingers and giving him ample taste of the sweet substance as it poured out of both of her nipples, pleasure rolling up the voidic warrior’s spine with every tug of his fingers, draw of his lips and flick of his tongue. All too soon her milk wasn’t the only thing that was leaking, and her grinding of her pussy over the tent formed by his cock grew faster and harder as she coated his pants in her girlcum.

He didn’t have Renan’s skill at lovemaking, nor Sorio’s sheer dominating physical power and presence, but if there was one advantage that Ciran had over the two Taleans, it was his pure passion in the bedroom. Even though he’d only known her for a day and had only lain with her once so far, the locksmith made no secret of how enamored he was with her, and even if he’d tried, he likely wasn’t subtle enough to hide it from her even when they were both fully clothed, much less with her tits in his face. It was a quality that anyone would find attractive, including her, and in many ways the passion he held for her made him a better lover than either of the duo she’d been with earlier that day. His affection, while not anything new to her, was attractive all on its own, and though she was certainly not a monogamist, Ciran was well on his way to becoming one of Isolda’s regular lovers, a prospect that would have undoubtedly delighted the man if she’d said it but that the wanderer felt no need to divulge immediately. It wasn’t as if she wasn’t making him happy enough already after all!

She made no effort to dislodge him from his efforts, and the more he sucked from her, the more energetic her grinding became, and the more the knot of pleasure built within her. She’d reached orgasm from stimulation solely to her breasts before, and while it was something of a rare occurrence even for her, she could the early warning signs coming up as Ciran drained her breasts of their contents through her milk glands. Her body had plenty to offer, however, and he hadn’t even made a dent in Isolda’s ample supply by the time he switched tactics and pulled her breasts together. “Nnnnnn!” The sudden change caused her to squirm a little bit more wildly on his clothed cock, and by that point the tent in his pants was soaked with her love honey, but the consistent stimulation of both of her nipples caused the knot in her belly to tighten in preparation. She wasn’t one to call on the gods at all, let alone during sex, and so it was a lot of mostly wordless gibberish that spilled out of Isolda’s mouth as he worked over her breasts, their stimulation above and beyond what she was getting from rubbing her petals over his clothed cock. Her lewd but meaningless noises were increasingly interspaced with brief sessions of begging for more, and that was something that Ciran seemed all too happy to give as he drained more and more of her milk.

It only took a few moments more for Isolda’s bubble to burst, and when she felt it coming she was all too happy to jump on the initial wave of pleasure. “Nnn…. Hahhhhh….. Sss… Ciran! I’m gonna! Mmmmm~ Don’t stop!” she moaned, and then let out a deep, passionate scream of pleasure as she fell fully into her climax. Waves after wave of delectable sensation tore through the wanderer’s body, causing her breasts to briefly erupt simultaneously in a full on spray of her nourishing liquid while a similar eruption occurred between her legs, soaking Ciran’s trousers even further. It was hardly a world shaker, but it was powerful enough to leave her panting and trembling in his lap after she came down, and in those few moments Ciran could easily do whatever he wanted to her without any resistance on Isolda’s part, if only he’d realize her moment of weakness.

Of course, if he didn’t, she would recover after only a few moments only to pull away on legs still shaking from her afterglow, her body heaving and her breath coming in quick bursts. After steadying herself for a moment, Isolda leaned over and engaged Ciran in a deep, hungry kiss, one in which she moaned into his mouth for the duration of while her hands slid down his body. She quickly unbuckled his pants and tugged down his soaked trousers, a slight flutter of raw carnal excitement occurring in her stomach when her fingers brushed over his shaft. She broke the kiss and straightened, a smirk on her now heavily flushed face, but a glance down at his manhood caused her to pause without delivering the teasing remark that she’d had planned. Isolda stood there, paralyzed by indecision, for several seconds before she looked back up at his eyes and grinned, breathlessly purring; “I think you deserve a reward~”

The wanderer climbed again onto Ciran’s lap while hiking up her skirt, leaving the bottom curve of her ass and the very tip of her mound exposed, with one hand on Ciran’s shoulder to keep her faltering legs steady enough to support her maneuver. She’d intended to tease him for a while longer, but her orgasm had left Isolda with a lingering need for stimulation, and she was in a sufficiently aroused state to ignore her plans in favor of sating it. Reaching down, she grabbed his manhood and gave it a few quick strokes before directing it upwards, towards her aching pussy. When she felt the tip brush against her nether lips, Isolda lost all semblance of self-control and sunk down until she had taken him to the hilt, leaving his balls resting against her shapely rump and the tip of his cock kissing her cervix in exactly the way she liked it. “Oooooohhhhh fuck!” she groaned as he speared into her, his length rubbing against every sensitive spot it could find along the way by the grace of her own instinctive guidance towards them.

That drove Isolda into a lustful frenzy and without further preamble she started grinding back and forth on Ciran’s cock like a woman possessed, pushing her clit against his pelvic bone and his cock against both her g-spot and her cervix. Her hands settled around the back of his neck as she leaned back, milk dribbling down her chest from her still heavily engorged breasts, and all it would take for Ciran to intercept those streams would be to lean forward and clamp his mouth over one of her nipples. Whether he did so or not, Isolda was too busy grinding on him to care, and the locksmith would undoubtedly enjoy the relentlessly tight squeezing of her inner walls as she used his member to stimulate herself towards another orgasm. After several moments of energetic grinding, the pleasure racing up her spine needed an outlet, and so she started with the dirty talk, whimpering; “You’re so hard~ It feels so fucking good inside me…..” On and on it went, becoming increasingly lewd and incoherent in about equal measure as she squeezed him, leaving it as something of a task to keep from blowing his load into her prematurely if he wasn’t careful.

The pressure in her belly didn’t take long to burst again, however, and if it had been hard for Ciran to keep from cumming before, it became twice so when Isolda’s writhing became frantic and the tightness of her depths redoubled. Of course, Isolda gave no thought to that as she reached her second climax, and her inner walls did their very best to milk Ciran of his sperm while the rest of her convulsed wildly in the throes of pleasure even stronger than that which had come with her last orgasm, and at some point she distinctly remembered calling out the locksmith's name, though she was too out of it to recall whether or not she'd accompanied it with anything. Even so, all good things must come to an end, and her orgasm was no exception. This time, when the spasms dropped down to the occasional occurrence rather than the norm, Isolda leaned in against Ciran without shifting her lower body in the slightest, heaving in breaths while her legs sat numbly around him, at which point what would happen next depended largely on whether Ciran had gone through her orgasm without having his own…. And whether or not he opted to take the initiative with the momentarily tired woman sitting on his cock.

 

[Takimaru]

Re: Gangs of Havenport (Tassadar) GMed by Takimaru

Status:

Spoiler

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

Spurred on by the wanderer's encouraging moans, Ciran continued to suck upon her stiff nipple, persisting in his efforts as if the amount of service he had done for her at that point wasn't yet enough to get her going--even if, by the sounds she made and the increased flow of her juices down below, it certainly seemed to be. Isolda's obvious arousal, coupled with the growing haze of her pheromones slowly filling the room, served as an aphrodisiac of sorts for her spirited lover. The more turned on she got, the more zeal he would display in kind, his movements growing more urgent by the second. The locksmith's attentions to her bounteous orbs remained undivided even as the white-haired beauty's orgasm started building up inside of her, and only just before she came did he even bother to switch tactics. Ciran stayed on her right breast with his mouth by virtue of suction alone, which freed one hand up to slide down below, along her torso and towards her womanhood. His fingers sought her soaked nethers and soon found them without any issues, since the wetness drooling from her inner thighs served as a sufficient guide for him.

The sensation of his digits finding her slick petals made it that much harder for Isolda to stay upright as climax approached, thanks to Ciran's relentless suckling of her milk-giving nubs. Keeping her arms wrapped tightly around him was the only way she'd stay upright as he found her clit with the pad of his middle finger, and he wasted no time in stimulating the woman's sensitive little button at a steady pace. This would help her right along to a shuddering peak, bolstering what would otherwise be a considerably smaller climax. "Hrrnnpfff!" was all that Ciran could pronounce when Isolda announced that she was getting close, and he remained resolute in his intentions to get her off properly. When she did cum, he went on jilling her off quickly, sending additional shivers up and down the swordswoman's spine and triggering a few more spasms to make it that much more satisfying. Of course, thanks to her Voidic nature, or perhaps just her natural sex drive, this would only serve to work Isolda up into a heightened state of lust. If she wasn't absolutely horny before then, she would be after that, which made the decision to go all the way and mount her man that much easier. His cock sprung up to full attention when she freed it from its fabric constraints, showing that it was more than ready to be put to use. As expected, he welcomed the kiss she hungrily stole from him, which wasn't so much a proverbial robbery in this case as it was an acceptance of a willing donation.

Ciran's member didn't even need the few pumps Isolda gave it to be erect enough for penetration, but given the soft groans he released when she did get him ready, it certainly didn't hurt for her to have done as much. Any additional lubrication proved unnecessary, as she had soaked through the front of the man's trousers so thoroughly that it left his manhood glistening with her secretions by the time it was revealed. Thanks to this, he slid into her smoothly when she descended upon him, making for an initial entry that was all too blissful given that Isolda's cunny had already ached for the feel of the locksmith's cock filling it completely. And he proved himself a great fit, though still big enough to hit the very end of the Voidic beauty's slick tunnel. As she impaled herself on him, Ciran's lips parted wide enough to allow a deep groan of pleasure to escape. He had been waiting for such a moment, and was all too thrilled to find out that the wanderer was quite willing to grant it to him that early, thanks to the mixture of her own high libido and his efforts in stimulating her erogenous zones up top. He attempted to return to sucking at her breasts as she rode him, but the sheer vigor and enthusiasm by which Isolda rocked upon the man made it hard for him to concentrate the way he had before.

With his most sensitive organ lodged deep inside her blissful canal, it would be far too difficult for him to focus on much, other than trying not to cum too early. After all, he had no idea how long she planned on staying in Havenport, and to get an experience as good as the one she was providing him would normally cost quite a bit of gold in such a city. Determined to make the most of such a rare opportunity, Ciran grit his teeth and held on as tight as he could when Isolda sped up to a fever pitch, deliberately denying himself of immediate release. It wasn't easy, especially when the pale beauty's inner walls began to quiver and spasm around his throbbing rod to mark her second orgasm, but the locksmith did his best, and that was enough to keep him from blowing his load too early. Thanks to this, Isolda would find that the cock deep inside of her stayed nice and erect throughout the duration of her trip to a most blissful state. She wasn't lying in her bout of spontaneous dirty talk; he was quite hard indeed, and this left the swordswoman free to indulge in the sheer ecstasy of it all until she was left in a momentary stupor. Fatigue, for the time being, actually seemed to catch up with her for once, though it was more her bodily systems than anything else.

But Ciran wasn't about to let her rest, and seeing the look of joy upon her face encouraged him to bring it in larger amounts. Feeling that her body had gone limp for the time being, he lifted her up, carrying her to the bed, where he soon joined her and initiated a second go at foreplay to get her going once more. Laying Isolda on her back, he treated her breasts to a series of licks and light kisses, working his way down her midline and eventually to her drooling crevice. Isolda would then see her partner's head lodge itself firmly between her thighs as he went to work, taking slow, lengthy laps up and down the entire length of her slit. He didn't extend the venture for too long, providing just enough in terms of intensity and duration to get her ready for yet another round. It didn't even take very long to get her worked up again, as the Voidic wanderer's instincts would soon overpower the temporary weakness in her legs. Not that she even needed to use them for what would come next, as her green-eyed lover finally pulled himself off of her and repositioned himself in a somewhat unorthodox posture.

With Isolda on her back, Ciran put her legs together and up, then laid down on his side with his body perpendicular to hers, entering her from there. Their joined bodies formed a shape not terribly unlike a 'T', and his entry this time around was even more pleasurable. Having her thighs squeezed together made it feel as if he was even larger inside of her, and every square inch of the pale woman's inner walls pressed closer against Ciran's warm, throbbing manhood. However, it wasn't so tight as to keep him from moving, and the locksmith began to thrust in and out of his beautiful visitor, sighing and gasping as he built up an enjoyable rhythm. It might not have been a position that Isolda was terribly used to, but it proved itself to be an exhiliarating one nonetheless, being taken in ways that most wouldn't bother to try with her, not without the wanderer attempting to initiate first. And while he kept at it with a steady pace, Ciran didn't even need to go that hard for the swordswoman to be crying out in pleasure, as he had positioned himself well so as to hit the spots that made it practically impossible for Isolda to keep quiet, at least for any extended period of time.

At that point, the two of them were covered in sweat, skin flushed, and Ciran could have finished inside her at any time. But he didn't; he was intent on savoring the experience with her as if it were their very last night together. After giving it to her for several more minutes, allowing her to enjoy the position just a little longer, he pulled out of her slowly, only allowing her enough time to catch her breath for a few seconds, so as not to allow her libido to die down more than he'd like. Then, he repositioned Isolda so that her neck and shoulders made the most contact with the bed, serving as the base, while her bottom went straight up. Spreading the half-elf's legs, he bent them over her head, keeping her upright by placing his hands on her thighs, and squatting above her he angled his rod straight down, pushing its head in between her folds once more. "Ohhhhhh..." he sighed, unable to resist sinking himself in further, and so he did, once again relishing the feel of her velvety interior squeezing around him as he hilted himself into her.

But even with Isolda's cunny wrapped tightly around him, Ciran wasn't one to leave her hanging for too long, however, and soon fed her lustful urges by pumping her the way she wanted, using his legs to drive his entire body up and down, adding extra momentum to his thrusts. As his entire body weight slapped against her hips with each descent, the man went in deeper than Isolda thought him able to in the position, and the natural tendency of his cock to spring forward and up meant that it rubbed against her G-spot during the shallower parts of his strokes, only to kiss upon her cervix on every full immersion. If he didn't have Isolda screaming in pleasure before that moment, he likely would then, and despite the potential discomfort involved with the piledriver position, the stimulation she received was more than enough to offset such minor inconveniences. A few more minutes of rapid thrusting and he would make it even more unbearable for her, employing the index and middle finger of one hand to find her clit and rub away at it vigorously. With three of the most sensitive spots in her nethers being constantly rubbed or pounded the way they were, Isolda was well on her way to yet another gushing orgasm.

On the other hand, so was Ciran, with his energetic pounding of the half-elven beauty reaching a pace unmatched by any he had put forth before, his body hurrying to the point of final release. "I-Isolda... agghh, I-I... I c-can't..." he warned her, visible strain in his expression. It was clear that he couldn't postpone his orgasm for any longer, and whether or not the wanderer cared to have him pull out, he soon lost control of his system's natural desire to release the pent-up seed he had been saving throughout the day. One burst of his warm seed could be felt erupting deep inside, followed by another, and another still, tickling her insides and making her feel more and more full with every throb of the locksmith's rod. Ciran could control himself no longer at that point, continuing to plunge in and out of Isolda's sopping cunt as he emptied several loads into her, with gravity doing its part in taking the thick liquid down towards her womb. "Ohhh! Isolda! HNNNNNGGH! OHHHHHH! Huaaahh... hahhh...!!! Nnnrrrgghhh!" His cries of ecstasy echoed through the room and beyond, and his muscles pressed firmly against hers could be felt quivering as the man strained to squeeze every last drop into his all too willing partner.

 

[Tassadar]

Re: Gangs of Havenport (Tassadar) GMed by Takimaru

Isolda was surprised to find that Ciran had held out through her orgasm, despite that her spasming sex had made every effort to milk out the locksmith’s sperm. She was even more surprised when he lifted her in his arms and carried her over to the bed. The wanderer hadn’t considered Ciran a weakling by any means, but she was hardly a dainty flower of a woman, and that he could so easily carry her for any distance was impressive. Of course, to say that that was the center of her distracted thoughts for any length of time was inaccurate, as she reflexively shivered and let out a soft lewd whimper when Ciran laid her onto the bead and lavished a bit more attention upon her chest. Laying back as he trailed kisses down her body, Isolda reflexively opened her legs for him when he reached her mound. It didn’t take much to get her ready for more, but she enjoyed his delicate lapping at her sex for as long as it lasted.

She fully expected to feel his manhood sliding into her sex again when Ciran pulled his head away, and though the position wasn’t one she’d ever tried before Isolda wasn’t disappointed when she felt his throbbing manhood pressed against her soaked petals once again. He slipped in with ease despite how tight the chosen position had her, her soaking wetness making it easy, and she let out a deep moan as he slid easily and fully into her until she felt his balls pressing against her ass. “Oooohhhhh! Nnnn~ Yes… Just like that!” she moaned as he began shifting back and forth, pumping his rock-hard rod into her tight sex. Keeping her legs together ensured that he was brushing against every inch of her inner walls and thusly hitting every single one of her sweet spots, resulting in incredibly intense pleasure for how slow it was, and as such Isolda was moaning like a wanton whore despite the reduced intensity. Sweat poured from her pores, causing her pale skin to shine as the air was filled with the pheromonal scents of their lovemaking, and the sounds of their bodies slapping together and the noises each of them made. Isolda was by far the louder of the two, her lewd noises serving as an outlet for the pleasure that was coming courtesy of Ciran’s steady plowing of her clenching sex, and she made no effort to quiet herself. Indeed, Isolda only got progressively louder as the locksmith continued his steady pumping into her soaking pussy, which was trying for all it was worth to milk the man dry with every single thrust.

She was starting to reach toward another peak when Ciran opted to pull out and change positions, initially drawing a low whine from wanderer until he began to move her. When his intentions became clear a few moments later, Isolda having made no effort to actually prevent or dissuade Ciran from the switch and thus allowing him to manhandle her, the wanderer cracked a wry grin and, in a somewhat strangled tone given that she was panting for breath at the time, said; “Eheh… Adventurous~”

She didn’t have to wait long before Ciran’s cock was pushed into her depths once again, filling her to the brim and nudging lightly against her cervix. She’d done piledriver before and while it was hardly a favorite of hers, in her presently aroused state she wasn’t going to be picky, letting out a deep moan upon initial penetration followed by a series of panting coos as Ciran start pounding down into her. It wasn’t quite as good for her as the previous position had been, at least not in a purely physical sense, but being so completely dominated was arousing in its own way. Unable to move in any real sense and with her g-spot receiving constant attention, Isolda was left to lie there and take it while he pistoned up and down into her sex in a manner that put her right back on track for another orgasm.

It felt like Ciran was about to pop at any second, however, and so she reached up toward her sex with one hand while keeping the other on the bed in order to keep herself steady, intent on reaching for her clit so that they would reach their peaks at about the same time. The locksmith was way ahead of her, however, reaching down and placing his two main fingers against her love button and rubbing it vigorously. With Ciran hitting her third sensitive spot with his hand while his cock was hitting her g-spot and pressing against her cervix, Isolda was as close to heaven as she was likely to get, her mind and body wracked completely with incredible pleasure courtesy of the surprisingly skilled locksmith’s constant stimulation. He quickly had her moaning loudly and constantly again, and the faster his pace grew the louder the white-haired woman beneath him became, until by the time he made his verbal announcement she was practically screaming in ecstasy. Despite her wild moaning, however, Isolda still had the presence of mind to put two and two together, his desperate words combined with his strenuous pace and the steady powerful throbbing of his shaft telling her that he was about to cum and prompting her to cry out; “Yes! Ooooh... Ciran! Do it! Cum inside me!”

It was no surprise that he gave the wandering swordswoman exactly what she wanted, and when she felt the first eruption of his potent goo pouring into her Isolda let out a primal scream and joined him in climax. Her body spasmed, her cervix thumping as it sucked up the offered seed while her inner walls clamped down and quivered, milking every drop that Ciran had to offer while pleasure exploded through her body. The potion she’d taken prevented her from getting pregnant, and she would normally have made efforts to keep seed out of her depths, but in that moment Isolda was loving every spurt fired into her thirsty womb, and both of their bodies and the force of gravity were all working together to try and ensure that Isolda conceived Ciran’s child.

“So… So much~” she cooed softly after coming down from her climax, “You really filled me up!” A ball of heat was sitting in the half-elf’s belly, Ciran’s baby-batter forming a pool inside of her womb and sloshing around with her slightest movements, and for the next few moments she happily remained in the same position without moving, basking in her afterglow. For most women, that much might have been enough, particularly after her encounter with Renan and Sorio in the bathhouse earlier that day, but Isolda was no ordinary woman. After relaxing for a few moments, she pushed Ciran out if he hadn’t pulled out on his own and got the locksmith onto his back, at which point she lewdly purred; “You got another round in you? I got a little carried away earlier and didn’t get to bring out my presents~”

While awaiting her lover’s reply, Isolda crawled in between his legs and wrapped the fingers of her right hand around his cock. Looking up at him and grinning, she gave his manhood a few quick strokes before opening her mouth and taking the head past her lips, creating an airtight seal over his tip and rolling her tongue over the hypersensitive tip repeatedly. If he jumped as much as she expected, Isolda would giggle at him and continue a bit longer, but after a few moments of lapping up the dregs of his orgasm as she pulled them out of his length, she stopped stroking and bobbed forward. She only went down about halfway before pulling back up, and repeated the motion a few times so as to fully clean the portion of his member that she took in. Popping off his length afterwards, she slowly licked the rest of his cock clean with a series of kisses and licks, cleaning off her own love honey, and then descended down to his balls.

“I hope you’ve got something left over in these~” she purred, and then lowered her mouth to his sack. One by one, she took the orbs contained in his sack past her lips, sucking gently on his balls and switching back and forth between them. After a few moments of lathering attention onto his sack, she started slowly stroking his shaft again while rubbing her tongue back and forth over the orb currently in her mouth. She kept up her attentions until he was fully hard again and for several moments after, before finally releasing Ciran’s sack from her mouth and leaning back up. “You don’t get off that easy this time~” she purred, and then pulled away and stood up, her legs slightly wobbly but able to support her weight. Strutting over to her pack and giving the locksmith plentiful opportunity to admire her shapely backside, Isolda bent down to retrieve the bottle of wine she’d taken from the Ebonstone, glad to find that it hadn’t broken in all the commotion. Only trace amounts of Ciran’s release had managed to leak out of her by that point, most of it remaining trapped within her womb, but what had managed to escape was shining upon her inner thighs as she turned and gave the locksmith a soft smirk.

Popping the cork off of the bottle, Isolda took a long swig from the bottle before strolling back to Ciran on much steadier legs, at which point she carefully climbed on top of the man, allowing his length to rest against her soft backside as she lowered herself down to a straddling position. “Care for some?” she asked, at first moving to offer him the bottle before adopting a teasing smile, and holding it up. Grinning, she grabbed him and slowly pulled him up so that he was putting his weight onto his hands and his face was once more nestled against the soft pillows of her bosom. Moving carefully and slowly, Isolda tipped the bottle until some of the wine dribbled over her breasts, starting near her collar and flowing down towards the tips, the implications of her act for what she wanted Ciran to do fairly obvious and accompanied by a tug on the back of his head.

 

[Takimaru]

Re: Gangs of Havenport (Tassadar) GMed by Takimaru

Status:

Spoiler

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

Isolda's verbal encouragement only caused Ciran to slam her even harder and faster, just as the Voidic beauty would have wanted, right before the grand moment where he hit his peak. And when he came, he did so leaving every inhibition by the wayside, clutching his lovely partner's thighs tightly as he hilted himself in as deep as he could, tilting his chin up and gritting his teeth. "Hahhh... hnnnnnnnggghhh! Ohhhhhhh! Uooooooohh..." His cries of ecstasy were loud, unrestrained, and if Isolda could be assured of anything in the moment, it's that her lover was truly enjoying himself, holding nothing back as he indulged shamelessly in the joy of cumming inside her.

He wasn't to be alone in such a wonderful feeling. From her position, the swordswoman could feel the man's hips shuddering against hers while the feeling of his warm gift hitting deep inside her caused spurts of pleasure to pulse through her body with every ejaculation. Isolda was allowed to enjoy her orgasm for what felt like a good while, with Ciran continuously thrusting even after the fact to ensure that she received his potent seed properly. At the end of each stroke he shuddered hard, squeezing out every last drop of his gift for the time being and losing himself in the blissful sensation of inseminating a beauty like Isolda, who looked as if she enjoyed it just as much as he did, if not more.

He then held himself inside her, stirring it about to get a few additional moans out of the beautiful wanderer. "Oooohhhhhh... hahh, hahff... hnnh." When the locksmith was satisfied, he slowly, carefully withdrew himself from her sopping crevice, which had been practically filled to the brim with his sticky seed. Even as she recovered, Isolda could feel the man's cum trickling from between her lower lips, as it had nowhere else to go at that point. While it was likely a familiar feeling to the white-haired vixen, the level of satisfaction she gained from it hadn't dwindled any. It fed the deep urges lingering within her, and whether it was her base desires as a human, an elf, or a demon, it was difficult to tell. All Isolda knew was that they were there, and at their strongest during moments like these. Just one of him might not be enough, given her renewed drive in the wake of her latest orgasm.

"Uuuuhhhh," sighed Ciran as he fell back onto his ass, making it easy for Isolda to push him the rest of the way onto his back as she had originally intended to. "Hufff... auhh, err, yeah, just... give me a moment," he wheezed. "I can, I can do it!"

Though he said as much, the locksmith had already fallen limp, his body already having worked overtime in order to please the insatiable half-elf. "Presents?" Ciran put on a somewhat confused look, expecting Isolda to finish her answer, but instead found the Voidic beauty between his legs, already hard at work in attempting to get him hard again. "Please, it'll just be a few minutes--uhnngghh," grunted the man, only to witness the woman's persistence in the matter. While he remained soft for a while longer, Isolda's earnest efforts would eventually bear fruit, especially once she descended to take care of his balls.

"Uooooohhh..." groaned the man, writhing upon the bed as Isolda caressed his jewels with a degree of care and attention that they had never been paid before. As she alternated between his cock and balls, bringing him to places that some folk could only ever dream of visiting, his expression shifted back and forth between that of sheer ecstasy and absolute disbelief. Was this some kind of dream? Ciran found himself questioning reality, as such wonderful moments didn't simply fall into the laps of average men like him very often, if at all. If they did, they didn't come cheaply, and of that much he was well aware. After all, the locksmith was no stranger to pleasure, having been a frequent visitor of Havenport's red light district. And yet, here was this mysterious, otherworldly beauty shamelessly working the parts of his body that made him a man, almost effortlessly granting him an amazing time that easily surpassed any encounter he had in the past.

And for that, he had little choice but to gradually grow hard again for her. "I-Isoldaa... aauuwhh... nnnghhahh!" Ciran turned his head from side to side as he struggled to deal with the overwhelming pleasure brought upon him by the pale swordswoman. Even she hadn't seen him react so dramatically before, but this was hardly exaggeration, and Isolda could easily tell as much. If anything, it was his body's sheer honesty in admitting its weakness to her. It didn't take very long at all for her to realize that she had found his most sensitive spot of all, and in capitalizing upon it by massaging his sack even further, she had him at her mercy--not that she didn't already. The touch of her lips and tongue upon his balls motivated the faculties within, and soon enough, a single look up told the woman that she had succeeded; the artisan's shaft had sprouted up once more, just as desired.

With his body revitalized and matching his heart's want for her, Ciran watched Isolda's every motion as she retreated momentarily to fetch the gifts she had acquired earlier in the day. Naturally, the locksmith wasn't one to pass up the free show that the wanderer had intentionally put on, admiring her statuesque rear as it was exposed to him. "Y-You're... simply amazing," he commented in sheer awe of the woman's features. Luckily for her, he wasn't the type to ponder troublesome matters, such as who might have had a taste of such beauty in the past; indeed, Sorio and Renan had their taste of paradise within her depths as a proper reward for their warrior's resolve in assisting her. But tonight, she was his, and that was all that mattered. Surely, he was blessed by some deity to even be granted such an experience.

When she straddled him once more, he sat up on his own, taking a shot of the wine from her cleavage. Upon tasting it, a somewhat surprised look arose upon his visage. It wasn't cheap stuff, that was for sure. But he didn't wonder about it for too long, nor was he inclined to. Instead, he devoted his attentions to ensuring that the alcohol wouldn't go to waste, and he cought most of the trickling droplets with his tongue before they could travel all the way down the woman's chest. Isolda was free to pour more in the valley formed by her breasts as Ciran cupped them from either side and squeezed them together. When she did, he would happily lap up the fine drink without requiring any further motivation from the pale-skinned beauty. Between shots, he made sure not to leave her hardened nipples unaccounted for, sucking on each of them with just as much vigor as before, kneading the fleshy mass of her breasts with his fingers as if to coax more milk out of her bounteous jugs. She had effectively renewed his thirst for her, which he seemed determined to quench at all costs. As she rocked back and forth upon him idly, Isolda could feel Ciran's now fully erect shaft sliding between her buns, pressing upwards in a request to be inside her once again. How she wanted to handle such an appeal was up to her, however...

 

[Tassadar]

Re: Gangs of Havenport (Tassadar) GMed by Takimaru

Isolda couldn't have been more delighted by Ciran's reactions to her attentions to his genitals, both the initial shyness and the surprising sensitivity he displayed when she shifted her attentions to his testicles, a tactic she filed away for later usage while focusing more and more upon the small swollen orbs. He'd given her much more of a filling than she'd expected, resulting in a significant stain growing in the spot between her legs while she took her mouth to the locksmith, as well as a good amount that dribbled down her legs when she went to retrieve her bottle.

Glancing back at him after she'd straightened, Isolda smiled coyly and traced a hand down her side only for it to vanish briefly from Ciran's sight when it passed over her mound, appearing again between her legs to gather up the mixture that had freshly leaked from her sex. Half watching the man that had provided it all the while, Isolda brought her now cum-coated fingers up to her mouth and casually licked them clean while her other hand slowly nudged the cork out of the bottle. While even she wasn't going to say that semen wasn't very much an acquired taste, when mixed with her own love honey and chased with a drought of fine wine it was certainly palatable, and Isolda repeated the act, largely cleaning her nether lips in the process, before returning to Ciran and giving him a taste of the wine.

Again Ciran's reactions did nothing but please Isolda, the wanderer not even needing to speak in order to get him to do exactly what she wants, and while he sucked on her breasts to produce a concoction that was doubtlessly fairly interesting between her milk and the wine, she would take a few swigs of her own straight from the bottle. She was anything but a lightweight, and the wine probably wasn't strong enough to start affecting her in the quantities she was drinking it in, but she was also far more used to the cheap swill often derided by those that might normally purchase the bottle she'd salvaged from the Ebonstone, so she couldn't speak with any accuracy on its potency. She did generally go for liquor over weaker drinks, however, and she'd had more of that than she had of the wine in the past without getting anywhere past tipsy.

Feeling Ciran's length hard against her rump, Isolda grinned and leaned forward a tiny bit more, rubbing her petals against the locksmith's belly while her cheeks spread around his stiffened length, and then pressing around it once it was wedged in deep. Once she had his manhood trapped within the soft confines of her shapely rump, Isolda would use her thigh muscles to slowly raise herself up and down, stroking him purely with the muscles and the comforting softness of her rounded backside while continuing to let him drink the wine from between her breasts and her milk directly from the bounteous orbs with which he was so enamored. She'd never tried anything of this sort before, but Isolda was nothing if not adventurous in bed, and after a few moments she worked herself into a steady rhythm. She could have easily just started riding him, it would have been easier to maintain and would have given her pleasure too, but trying something new rarely failed to excite her and teasing Ciran was uniquely appealing given his unfailingly energetic reactions to it.

Isolda didn't opt to keep that up for particularly long, however, only allowing the wine bottle to drop by about halfway between what she fed to Ciran and what she chugged herself, making the amount of alcohol consumed and spilled onto herself about the same, before the wanderer would opt to put the bottle aside and push Ciran back down onto his back. "Stay~" she cooed firmly, and if the locksmith was agreeable she would slowly shuffle back until she was once again kneeling between his legs. Bending down, her ass in the air, Isolda slowly lowered her mouth towards his manhood, eyes centered up on him the a lustful look all the while. She paused to hover over him, close enough that he would be able to feel her breath on it but not quite touching any part of him. Only a few seconds would she pause, however, before Isolda ended her teasing and began to work Ciran's member slowly, one hand forming a ring around the base and the other stroking it, while her mouth descended onto his balls once again. It was mostly a repeat of her former actions, sucking gently on one orb in turn for a few seconds before switching to the other for the same, alternating over a dozen times and slowing the cycle each time.

Of course, Isolda would only spend so long on that before switching things up again, and after releasing one of the locksmith's balls from her mouth she would slowly draw her tongue up from the base to the tip, giving the head a long wet kiss after reaching the top. The purpose of her parting kiss was two fold, the pleasure being only secondary to the wanderer's desire to ensure that he was properly lubricated. She herself was still wet enough for what she had planned, and after her lewd kiss she crawled up as if to mount the locksmith only to turn around just as she was about to, straddling him in reverse. "You've been a good, patient boy~ Now it's time for me to reward you!" she purred softly while looking back at him over her shoulder, giving Ciran ample view of her shapely rump and the soft curves of her back.

Even in that position it wasn't difficult for Isolda to line herself up with Ciran's erect staff, and it wasn't long before she released a soft gasp as his domed head parted her lips and slowly slipped into her sex, leaving Ciran once more locked within the warm tightness of her depths. Lubricated by the mixture of her saliva, her juices, and the remainder of his first climax, Isolda had taken Ciran in even more easily than she had before, and he would undoubtedly be happy to have his cock back in the comforting confines of her tight inner walls. It was undoubtedly a pleasant view for the locksmith, seeing Isolda's shapely backside sitting on his lap with his length vanished into her flower, and she watched him over her shoulder as she drew her hips back up until he was almost free of her and then dropped back down onto him, giving him an opportunity to see it vanish and reappear a few times as she bounced upon him and let out a series of low, lustful moans. She rapidly increased her pace, until eventually her position wouldn't allow her to go any faster.

The lust burning in Isolda's loins wasn't sated by such a pace, however, and so she planted her hands upon the bed and shifted, planting her feet upon the bed without withdrawing Ciran's manhood from her sex. Moaning wordlessly with raw pleasure, Isolda began pounding herself onto Ciran's hard rod, coating his shaft in a mixture of their releases as she squatted over him and bounced up and down. "Nnnnnn! You, ahhhh, like that?" she moaned, again looking back at him over her shoulder as she lowered herself fully and started grinding back and forth onto him, rubbing her clit on him and causing his cock to rub repeatedly over her g-spot. Replicating the pleasure he'd inspired earlier caused Isolda to tighten around Ciran, and she quickly went back to pounding onto him using the powerful muscles of her hips and thighs. The softer portions of her body rippled and jiggled from the impact of her hips against his, and she just kept on getting faster and rougher while the position ensured that her inner muscles kept her pussy clenched around, leaving Ciran lit option but to hold on if he wanted to keep her from milking another load out of him.

The new position was tiring, however, and though it was certainly pleasurable for her it was also fairly taxing on both her body and on her attention, at least compared to the more normal actions required of this particular position. As such, it was entirely possible that Isolda's legs would begin to cramp before she'd managed to bring Ciran to orgasm. If that was the case, when she'd just started to tire Isolda would quickly pull off and crawl forward slightly, again looking back over her shoulder as she dropped back down to her knees and arched her back. "Your turn~" she purred breathlessly, her breathing heavy as much due to physical activity as it was due to her own moaning, "Take me hard, right now! Make me scream for you~" She lowered her head toward the bedding, putting her shapely rump even higher and wiggling it alluringly for him, trying to tempt him into abandoning restraint and taking her wildly.