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 = 42/42, Status = Normal

Ciran swallowed hard as he watched the swordswoman slurp up his viscous seed with a level of shamelessness that only she could manage. It wasn't only one helping of it, either; it was two, three... and apparently much more. Even so, Isolda had retained enough boldness to make and maintain eye contact with her lucky partner all the while. It was rather captivating, a little embarrassing, and yet so arousing for him all at the same time to watch her partake of his milky gift of her own free will. That would only be a hint of Isolda's true capabilities in the realm of sexual creativity, however, and even as the locksmith began to take shots off her cleavage, she hadn't remained idle in the slightest, employing her toned but ample bottom to stroke away at his shaft. At this, he released a muffled grunt, barely managing to keep himself from clamping hard down onto her tit with his teeth as he struggled to deal with the new sensations. What Isolda did feel instead of his teeth were his soft, wet lips squeezing upon her nipple to milk her further. But while Ciran succeeded in coaxing out more of those nourishing fluids, of which he clearly couldn't get enough, the majority of his attention had naturally shifted to his cock, thanks to the white-haired beauty's hip movements.

While the artisan was as reliable as ever in resisting the urge to blow his load a second time despite his newest lover's expert services, Isolda would find that he still couldn't resist for long after feeling her wetness upon his lower abdomen. He tried to shift his position underneath her further, upwards along the bed, in an attempt to invite himself inside once more--though it was more of an instinctual effort than a conscious one. Despite his failure in that endeavor, his struggles he made it clear that he was ready now for a second round. Having his body grind against hers without penetration, yet knowing how ready she was for it, wasn't the easiest thing for Ciran to stand, and he grimaced a bit. "Aahhhggghh... hnnn!" he groaned, lost somewhere between the spectrum of pain and pleasure thanks to the half-elf's wonderful treatment combined with her perhaps unintentional denial. If she had a sadistic bone in her body, it would be tickled upon seeing the man's expressions. Absolute bliss, utter discomfort, and everything in between--Isolda could cause it all. Ciran wasn't the first, nor would he be the last. And even if she knew this beforehand, seeing her partner writhe beneath her would serve as a potent reminder for the Voidic beauty just how effective her hold was over the hearts of men.

Luckily for him, being teased to death was not quite in the cards if only thanks to Isolda's 'mercy', which might have only been thanks to her own urges, but it was a relief for Ciran all the same. It didn't take much effort at all on her part to get the locksmith to heed her commands and take them to heart. Despite his ever present desire to simply flip her onto the bottom and claim her for himself like a wild animal, he stayed still enough when she needed him to, allowing her to work upon his shaft and balls to her satisfaction. Though the temptation to rut her stayed only barely suppressed, Ciran still managed to remain obedient, for the most part, and simply enjoy the woman's oral services for the time being. He could only take so much, however, and after a few more minutes finally worked up the courage to make his request. "Auhh, Isolda... I-I... I want to... nnngh! Ohhhhh!" He bit his lip as his eyes met those of the white-haired vixen's, and shifted his hips upward slowly while tightening his glutes, as if he were about to cum, especially once she got to stroking him more firmly. But he wasn't to go again that early, not when Isolda hadn't even the chance to ride him one more time. When she planted a kiss at the tip of his throbbing manhood, a bead of precum formed upon it for her to lick up, then another. She had done more than enough to get him ready, that was for sure.

A quick glance over her shoulder showed Isolda that her partner was all too happy to get a second go at her. After his initial orgasm, it wasn't certain if he would be able to get it up again thanks to how hard they went the first time, and yet thanks to some inspired efforts on the wanderer's part, there he was, standing proud and erect for her. Thanks to her preparations, there was little difficulty involved in finding the rounded tip of his rod once she repositioned herself as necesary. As she slowly impaled herself on him once again, taking inch after inch of him into her heavenly depths, the Voidic one could hear a pronounced sigh of relief coming from the man beneath her. He reached forward to clutch her waist from both sides, helping Isolda along once she chose to establish a rhythm, and actually managed to relax a bit more. "Uwooh... hnnn, ah, yes... I do!" he answered. "Nnn--- Hnngh!" Ciran wasn't content to stay idle all the while, and helped his partner ride him with even more vigor or speed if she wanted to, conserving some of Isolda's own energy in the process. His arms and hips worked together in unison to bounce right back each time she descended upon him. As she slid up and down on his slick pole, Isolda could hear Ciran's sounds of pleasure growing louder, and his efforts to fuck her right back began to lean towards a faster pace. Still, he managed to hold on despite several close calls just minutes earlier, and found a second wind in terms of postponing his orgasm for the time being.

However, the tempo by which his return strokes increased only went up as time went by, and soon enough Isolda could tell that Ciran wanted nothing more than to go all out on her. So when she finally changed it up and positioned herself on her hands and knees for him, challenging the artisan to hold nothing back, he looked all too pleased to satisfy her request. After Isolda assumed the new position, he planted himself right behind her and eased himself back in, then wasted no time in building up a steady pace. The slapping noise of his hips against hers began to echo through the room, only increasing in tempo as the man gradually let his pent-up desires come to the surface. Isolda could sense his sexual frustration, which had been building back up since she got him hard again, seep out through his body language and increasingly audible breaths. The force of his strokes built up until he was ramming her with all his might, causing the swordswoman's breasts to swing back and forth in time with each thrust. At that point Isolda could feel him hitting the very end of her tunnel, giving her a rutting comparable to the fierce pounding Sorio had dished out to her. And although he didn't have quite the amount of raw strength, his ability to maintain such a fervent pace was something the quarter-demon could be quite thankful for, as it sent her speeding towards an orgasm of her own.

Ciran panted as he went on, and even when his lovely partner did cum, she was granted not a drop of mercy from his ever-stiff cock. Now was no longer the time for patience or restraint. Isolda had offered for him to be the aggressor in this situation, and he would make good on that by pumping her rapidly all throughout her climax. Though her inner walls kept squeezing down on his manhood, daring it to spill forth its second helping of potent, sperm-filled liquid, the artisan managed to hold on and postpone the inevitable moment of release, focusing instead on the rhythm by which he took her. Again, Isolda was free to ride out the entirety of her body-quaking orgasm while he fucked her without pause, treating her to the additional sensation of his balls slapping against her cunt's exterior. And though the pleasure nearly proved overwhelming at some points, nearly causing her arms and legs to give out under her, Ciran simply kept pounding her, causing the Voidic beauty to cry out loudly. Isolda's body could hardly contain all of the intense sensations brought upon it by her lover, and so they had to be released in any way possible, be it through her voice or otherwise. If she was a screamer of any sort, then the neighbors would likely know that night. It would take an immense amount of discipline to stay quiet after the way he fucked her, not that she would want to.

Not that any of it mattered to the two, as they continued to enjoy each other's company in the most intimate of manners without a care in the world. His hands moved from clutching her hips tightly to her shoulders as he leaned forward, then slid halfway down her arms, pulling them behind her before grabbing her wrists for leverage. From there, her upper body was left arched upwards slightly, leaving her at Ciran's mercy--or so he thought. But that feeling of dominance was enough to drive him wild enough to work his way towards a finish, and he rammed her faster and faster still. He sped up to a point that would make most men cum at any moment, and while he had managed to prove himself relatively disciplined throughout the session, it was clear that it was time. With the wanderer's pussy already quivering and warm thanks to being partly filled with the remnants of his first load, it was just too much to take. A deep, ragged groan rose from Ciran's throat, and he squeezed down on her wrists tightly just in time for Isolda to feel the pitter-patter of his hot cum upon her inner walls. "Ahh... hnnnngghh! Uhooohhh! Uuuhhhhnnn! HRRNNNGH!" grunted the brown-haired man through clenched teeth, his chin tilted upward as he proceeded to give her everything he had.

Though he wasn't able to let out quite as much as he did the first time, Ciran continued to thrust regardless, ensuring that he had reached complete satisfaction while she was here for him to enjoy. A few more jets of his seed hit her deeper inside, only to be pushed in further along by his cock as he hit the end stages of his orgasm. He was finished. Ciran released all he could in one night, and both times he delivered his load as deeply inside of her as he could. In the afterglow, he leaned backwards, falling onto his back while still inside of her, gently letting her hands go down and to the sides and wrapping his arms around her waist so that she faced the ceiling while still on top of him. As they took the new position to cuddle, his softening manhood slipped out of her, prompting his seed to dribble out from between her lower lips in turn. He kissed the space between her neck and her right shoulder, and his skillful hands idly worked along her body, caressing and appreciating her form. "W... wow... I'll never be able to have it that good again, I think," pronounced the locksmith between gasps for air.

Then, a short silence passed as he gave thought to what he did. Even the girls at the Silver Quarters took proper precautions so as not to bear the children of random johns. But Isolda hadn't, at least not to what he remembered, and he had just cum inside of her not once, but twice, not to mention another time from the previous night. Never had he really considered fathering a child before, not at this stage, but in his mind, he had already done enough to potentially do so whether he liked it or not. And as far as Isolda went as a lover... well, she was practically otherworldly. His desire for her might not have been love, but he knew that tiring of this particular woman was not anything he was capable of doing in the near future.

In a low voice, he boldly proclaimed his devotion to her. "Isolda, if you are with child... I'll support you. I might just be a simple locksmith, and you a warrior of sorts, no doubt, but I can work more. I'll take any job that's thrown at me. You wouldn't have to deal with it alone." It was a huge step for a man like him, but one he was willing to take nonetheless.

 

[Tassadar]

Re: Gangs of Havenport (Tassadar) GMed by Takimaru

Isolda waved her shapely ass alluringly at her lover as he moved, right up until Ciran placed the head of his cock against her drooling folds, at which point her thighs tensed and brought her ass back against him, changing his initial thrust from a gentle push to a quick slam. Letting out a low throaty moan as her sopping folds sucked in her lover's turgid shaft, as he started thrusting the pale wanderer returned his motions in kind as he began to build up his pace, rolling back against him to take him in harder and tensing her inner walls as they pulled apart. Biting her lip did little to quiet her moans, and she lowered herself to her elbows as the man's pace increased toward the point where her hips couldn't keep up with his hard, rapid pumps. "Oooooohhhh yes!!! Fuck me.... Ahhhh! Just like that!"

Soon enough her breasts were swaying back and forth, the soft meat of her ass rippling with every impact of their hips as Ciran rutted her with a power close to that of the boxer Sorio, and with even greater passion. She made no effort to restrain her noises made due to his wild pumping, and she actively worked to inspire the orgasm that Ciran was driving her towards as he pistoned in and out of her pulsating womanhood, feeling his manhood slamming into her depths and against her already cum-drenched cervix with every thrust. Soon enough he would feel her inner walls spasming around his cock, her moans rising to signal her climax, but even as the more intense pleasure rolled up her spine and caused her entire body to quiver the locksmith just kept pounding into her upraised backside. Their mixed cum poured out around his length as her folds squeezed tightly, fluids dribbling onto Ciran's sack even as it slammed repeatedly against her clitoris.

Despite the insistent milking of her pussy, however, Ciran withstood Isolda's climax and just continued pounding into her shapely backside all the same. "Ahhhh!! Nnnnnn~ Yes! Keep fucking me... Right there! Don't stop!" she cried as she came down from her climax, arching her back further as she dropped her head down toward the bed, pressing it into the soft material. She wasn't long to remain there however, as Ciran soon leaned over her and grabbed her wrists, wrenching her back up and causing her to arch her back even further. Her breasts, partially contained by her arms and pressed against the bed, began to swing freely again as he hammered into her. "Oooooh yesss! Fuck me Ciran! Fuck me harder!" she screamed, her voice so loud and so filled with lust that her partner's neighbors were likely well aware of what the man was doing now if they hadn't been aware of it courtesy of her earlier loud moans. Her eyes rolled up into the back of her head as his thrusts began to drive spikes of near-orgasmic level pleasure up her spine all on their own, her tongue lolling out of her mouth as she went well and truly wild, the ever-so-rare feeling of being so completely dominated incredibly pleasurable to Isolda, who began to hammer right back against Ciran's thrusts with all of her not unimpressive strength, though she couldn't exert much of it in that position.

"Harder! Nnnnnnn!!!! Fuck me harder!" she moaned desperately, and for another few moments she bucked wildly against him. No man could maintain that pace for long though, and Ciran was no exception, certainly not when it was Isolda's pussy that he was pounding into at least. Her body tensed alongside his, another orgasm rising within her as she felt him throbbing against her inner walls, and a moment later she was sent over the edge as she felt the first spurt of his second load of the night into her pussy. It was easily her hardest orgasm of the night, the waves of pleasure so intense that Isolda could do nothing to contain her pleasured scream. She could feel his bulls pulsing against her clit, and as before Isolda's body worked in a most primal manner to ensure that so apparently strong a male succeeded in seeding her with his child, her cervix opening and dipping down just as each wave of cum erupted from Ciran's cock, catapulting his semen into the soup of it already contained within her womb. Only the potion she'd taken kept earlier him from succeeding, making her womb too hostile a place for his sperm to survive for long enough to reach her egg, but that didn't stop her body from trying to make it happen anyway. She milked everything that he had left to give, and for several moments after he was seemingly spent she rolled her hips back and forth, continuing to thrust and maintaining the flagging pleasure of her orgasm.

When it was over, Isolda allowed herself to be pulled on top of him with a sigh, letting out another when he started kissing the space between her neck and shoulder and a third when his manhood slipped out of her pussy, letting a flood of their mixed juices dribble out and onto his body and bed. Her hands settled down to his sides, holding him delicately and returning the caresses that he made over her now prone body. She laughed lightly as he spoke, and her response came in a light purr; "Not until tomorrow night, when we do this all over again~" It would probably make the locksmith's night all the better if she offered the promise of a second sequel to it on the next night, and while she certainly wouldn't consider it a promise the fucking that she'd just received was more than enough incentive to make a return trip if she wasn't indisposed for some reason.

Of course, what he said next came as something of a surprise to the wanderer, for more than one reason, and she initially offered a soft chuckle before turning her head and kissing him on the mouth. It wasn't a deep kiss, such being impossible in such a position, but it was as passionate as it could be under the circumstances. When she broke it, Isolda rolled off of Ciran only to flip and lay an arm and a bent leg over his body, pressing her breasts against his side and allowing his arm to curl over around her neck, a fairly classical position for such affectionate post-coital relaxation. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" she asked bemusedly, "Seeing my belly growing fat with a child you'd put into it, being able to fuck me however you liked all the while~" The light accusation of an ulterior motive was more meant for her amusement than anything else.

She continued to smile, but Isolda's tone grew a tiny bit more serious; "You... We don't need to worry about that. You did provide me with the money necessary to acquire a potion to prevent a pregnancy, as I asked you to this morning, and I did buy and take such a potion. As valiantly as you've just tried, I won't be carrying your baby tonight..." It was then that Isolda leaned in, a lewd smirk on her face, and whispered; "But that potion will wear off by tomorrow.... And if you fuck me like you did tonight, I might just let you fill me up again, when I won't be so protected~" She leaned back after her suggestive coo, awaiting the man's reaction with a raised eyebrow.

 

[Takimaru]

Re: Gangs of Havenport (Tassadar) GMed by Takimaru

Status:

Spoiler

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

The locksmith twitched and shuddered occasionally in the afterglow of the wild session, thoroughly spent and unable to continue despite a faint, lingering desire to thanks to the Voidic woman's contagious libido. His body clearly had enough. The combination of Isolda's skillful movements and curvy physique had done their task in draining the man of all the seed he could hope to give for one night, and while it proved slightly frustrating to have his muscles unable to keep up with his willingness to express his desire for her, it was all he could manage for the time being. He wrapped his arms around her weakly, and while it was difficult to tell whether or not there was any genuine emotion behind the gesture, his words hinted that there very well could be. The languid yet affectionate manner in which Isolda pushed up against him after the fact proved quite seductive in its own way, and like many of the pale-skinned beauty's charms, was also rather effective in getting and keeping his undivided attention.

Then came the implication of yet another session to follow, which would easily make the best three nights that Ciran had ever experienced in his lifetime--in a row, to boot. From the surprised look on his face, it was easy enough for the locksmith himself to realize as well. "A-Again..." he echoed, his sweat-covered expression halfway between the realms of joy and disbelief. "Y, yes, of course." Getting it up again would be all but impossible for him at the time, but the thought that such a rare beauty enjoyed his company to the point of a third visit was far too exciting a notion for him to pass up. It was encouraging enough of a catalyst for him to come out with his confession of sorts, since Isolda made it clear that she was to be around for more than just one night. The swordswoman could, from the contact of her breasts against the man's chest, feel his heartbeat speed up as he awaited her response. He did relax a little when she answered him with a kiss and an embrace sweet enough for a real lover, though the teasing words that followed caused Ciran to swallow and shake his head nervously.

"No, I wouldn't do THAT while you were pregnant!" he exclaimed almost immediately, still unable to determine whether it was Isolda's morbid sense of humor or if she was simply being candid. "...Err, I mean, if it's bad for the child," the man would add afterwards to clarify, scratching the side of his cheek with one finger. "Then, I wouldn't, unless, uh..." he trailed off, unwilling to finish the sentence, though Isolda knew what he meant--that he would gladly give her what she wanted, if she requested it of him, regardless of such conditions. However, embarrassment quickly set in to Ciran's features when she reminded him of his own donation in ensuring the wanderer's relative independence just earlier that morning, and he even looked a little crestfallen after realizing it. "Uh... o-oh, right. I understand, then, as such a dangerous profession doesn't cater well to those carrying their next generation." Indeed, his train of thought ended with him figuring it to be a concern that was best left alone for now... until Isolda followed up with a most bold proclamation. If she meant it only to get a memorable reaction out of the man, visually, then she would not be disappointed with the results. "Ah, erm... r-really? As long as you're sure," he replied, though his eyes told more truth in that they were filled with an odd kind of hope--that she was at least willing to stick around with him.

A blush and a stunned look would be all that he could muster afterwards, however, and he seemed content to lay next to her, turning his gaze upwards to the ceiling and allowing fatigue to eventually give way to slumber. Even the swarm of thoughts running through his mind about Isolda and any possible futures with her wasn't enough to keep him awake for too long. And while the wanderer might have had little qualms about resting her eyes alone in the Gremic wilderness on any given night, this time she had a warm bed and a lover to curl up next to. It would be one of the more comfortable evenings she had as of late, and unless there were any particularly bothersome thoughts floating about in her head, the exhaustion brought about by the intense coupling would make fairly easy for Isolda to find sleep.

~~~~~​

When Isolda woke up, her body sent her one message above all: that she was hungry, in the literal sense. And also thirsty. It seemed that the previous night had managed to rouse her need for sustenance. Luckily, Ciran was apparently already up, and while his hair was somewhat disheveled, he was fully dressed, work apron and all, as he entered the bedroom. The smell of food wafted through the doorway, and he offered her a slight smile. There were faint rings under his eyes, indicating that he didn't get quite enough sleep. "Good morning. I had to work on those locks earlier, and while I have a few more hours left, I'm not sure if I'll get done on time... I did make you some breakfast, though. Just some bread, eggs, sausage and juice. Nothing fancy but, hopefully it'll fill you up. I can bring it to you if you don't want to get dressed," said the man, and despite his polite way of speaking, he couldn't help but allow his eyes to wander upon the swordswoman's admirable frame.

Spoiler

Acquire 2 additional EXP. Can now spend EXP on stuffs.

 

[Tassadar]

Re: Gangs of Havenport (Tassadar) GMed by Takimaru

Tired as she was, Isolda still managed to chuckle lightly at Ciran's response to her suggestive comment about letting him cum inside of her again the next night. Unwilling to let him have the last word despite that both of them were well on their way to passing out, Isolda slowly leaned up and gave Ciran one last kiss on the mouth before saying; "You'll just have to fuck me until I'm to the point that I'll want to feel you blow your load inside me. I have a feeling you won't have too much trouble with that~" And with that, Isolda would settle herself in the locksmith's embrace and close her eyes, quickly allowing her consciousness to fade.

~~~~~~~~~​

Flashback now located here!

~~~~~~~~~​

When she awoke to find herself alone, her stomach growling and her throat parched, Isolda let out a subconscious whine and rolled over in an effort to go back to sleep. While she wasn't normally one to be cuddled, Isolda had been comfortable the night before when she'd fallen asleep, and was now decidedly uncomfortable. Combined that with needing to go to the bathroom fairly badly and the minor headache of a very light hangover combined with her dehydration, however, the wanderer found it impossible to return to her dreams. She gave up the fight and opened her eyes just before Ciran came into the room, resulting in him walking in just as she sat up and stretched, the blankets that covered her falling away to reveal the oft-desired bounty of her ample chest.

Yawning softly, she smiled at the locksmith even as her stomach growled. "Oh I'm sure it will be fine! You are so skilled at filling me up~" she cooed in response to his promise of breakfast, before bursting out into giggles. "Breakfast in bed would be lovely! Though I have to ask where your restroom is. No sense in staying up here if I need to get my clothes on and go outside just to have a piss!"

Once that particular issue was taken care of, thankfully not requiring that Isolda get dressed, which the wanderer was hesitant to do courtesy of mischief against the locksmith that she had brewing, she would happily accept breakfast in bed while leaving the actual act for later. "I'll take breakfast up here then, and take care of that after I've eaten. I wouldn't mind a wash either, to be honest, but you don't need to trouble yourself with that if you don't need to. So long as you've got the water to spare, I can give myself a scrub. If you don't, I can just go to a bath house later."

 

[Takimaru]

Re: Gangs of Havenport (Tassadar) GMed by Takimaru

Status:

Spoiler

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

Ciran's gaze descended slightly only a second after the bedsheets fell from Isolda's bust, effectively putting her assets on display for him. The artisan wasn't particularly subtle in expressing his desires, with the wanderer and her curvy body, capable of delivering otherworldly desires normally unknown to average men like him, being at the top of his list. It was about as expected, however, given the way she first met him. She hadn't managed to rub him the wrong way despite her questionable background, and now he had only shown more affection for her than before. Though his face did show some surprise at her use of wording. A piss! It turned out that she could be as rough-mouthed as a man at times, which shouldn't have come as a shock to him given her apparent background as a warrior or mercenary of some sort.

"Oh, uhh... I do have one. It's located near the back, to the right," he answered to her query of whether he possessed a bathroom or not. Thanks to the efforts of countless hard-working engineers and innovative water mages, many major cities on the Western Continent, particularly those in Elynsor and Brevnia, were possessed of a sewer system, though the quality of such construction did vary. Havenport, being one of the most prosperous port cities, was no exception--though some of the slums and poorer districts naturally had to make do without such conveniences. Ciran had inherited the shop from his late master, and in the process acquired a few amenities along with his newest home.

Still, he had no idea of the types of luxuries this woman was accustomed to, and so he couldn't help but exhibit tinges of embarrassment in his voice as he explained his situation. "I don't actually own a bathtub, though, eh-heh... the previous master of the place was a little old-fashioned--it was a surprise to me that he even owned a toilet. I do have a few barrels of water in the bathroom, and some soap if you'd at least like to get clean." Isolda knew of the more traditional practice of bathing. It involved getting water from a barrel or large container by way of a smaller bucket and pouring it over oneself to rinse, lathering up, then repeating the process. It was the most common way for citizens to bathe in their own homes. Otherwise, bathhouses were the norm, while the wealthy could afford to have tubs or pools installed in their manors. "A-Anyway, I'll get the food. Be just a moment," announced the locksmith before retreating into the larger part of the shop, to a small area that sufficed as both a kitchen and a dining room of sorts.

Isolda didn't have to wait long for him to return, and he delivered her a wooden tray with the simple breakfast he described. A small loaf of plain bread, eggs and sausage, along with juice made from polenas, a mildly sweet fruit, served as her meal for the morning. While the drink and the meat were good, the eggs were a bit bland and could have used a bit of salt. It might not have been much, compared to what she would have had if she chose to eat out, but it was a suitable indicator of the sort of life Ciran lived. He seemed to earn enough wages to get by, working hard when he did, and saved as much excess money as he could... only to blow it on an occasional night of pleasure. Until she came along to grant him two of those in a row, hence his gratitude. Whether or not she was the type to take advantage of such weaknesses, the wanderer could tell that she wouldn't have much of an issue manipulating the man to her own needs, if she ever needed or felt the urge to.

"Hopefully it wasn't too bad," he commented before showing her the way to the bathroom. It was a relatively simple but homelike affair. The latrine was located off to one corner, while a bathing area marked by a wooden divider and tile floors was located at the other end. There were no mirrors, and only the necessary items by which to get oneself clean; two barrels of water, a few buckets, bar soap and solid shampoo, and a large towel draped over a high peg in the wall.

"This is it," said Ciran. "If there's anything else you need, just let me know. I'm uh, going to finish those locks. You said you'd deliver them today? I mean, you don't have to. If I must be honest, I just don't feel entirely comfortable sending you to deal with men like them," he added, scratching the side of his head.

 

[Tassadar]

Re: Gangs of Havenport (Tassadar) GMed by Takimaru

Nodding with a smirk born of the look that the locksmith was holding onto her bosom at Ciran's explanation, Isolda found herself satisfied with his answers. She'd certainly had to make do with worse setups before, and it had been a long time since she'd woken up to breakfast in bed. When he returned with the promised food, the pale wanderer knelt up and gave him a kiss on the cheek as thanks, and then promptly dug in. Half of the juice went first, and then she dipped the toast in the eggs and proceeded from there until her plate was clean. While it was hardly an equal in taste to the delicious meal she'd had at the Trost Inn the previous night, it was hearty and filling, which was exactly what she'd wanted at the time anyway. The juice was easily her favorite part, sweat things being a rare treat for her, and after she finished off the glass Isolda gave a contented sigh. She often had to skip breakfast, and being able to sit back and enjoy it was a pleasant treat for her in and of itself, one that she was grateful for even if Ciran wasn't wrong about the quality of the simple meal.

"Not bad at all!" she said brightly following his comment, and then climbed out of bed at his indication and followed him - as naked as the day she was born - outside to the yard where his latrine and bathing area were. "Thanks! I'll be a while, so don't feel the need to wait for me~" she said, giving him another kiss on the cheek and pointedly ignoring his misgivings about sending her to deliver the locks to what she was at that point assuming were slavers. Once he had gone back to work, Isolda took care of her base needs before opting to clean herself up. A tiny layer of white fuzz had grown on her mound over the last few days, and she briefly went upstairs to retrieve a razor before carefully shaving away all but a patch of it. After that came a sponge bath, which she performed quickly and with as little water as she could manage, her mind always on conserving resources where she could when performing such duties given her lifestyle. The soap and shampoo were rare treats all their own, and Isolda allowed herself to indulge in those just a tiny bit more than usual, as it was rare that her ivory lockes received any sort of proper cleaning, and as violent and crude as she could often be, Isolda was still womanly enough to enjoy such things.

Once she was properly cleaned and she had cleaned up after herself, however, Isolda smirked lightly and padded back into Ciran's shop. She had learned to be sneaky, growing up on the streets as she had, and while it wasn't a skill she opted to practice very often anymore Isolda still knew how to move quietly when she wished. As such, she slowly crept in, looking to find the locksmith at work without being detected as mischief brewed in her mind.

 

[Takimaru]

Re: Gangs of Havenport (Tassadar) GMed by Takimaru

Status:

Spoiler

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

Rolls:

Spoiler

Stealth check (Isolda vs. Ciran):
(Rolled a 15) + 23... yeah, Isolda wins.

Despite the relative innocence of Isolda's thank-you gesture to Ciran, the kiss she planted on his cheek still caused him to blush nonetheless. He had already gone all the way with her, several times at that, and yet even the simplest show of affection from the Voidic beauty was enough to flatter the artisan without fail. Isolda's sway over the man made it easy for her to steer the subject as she pleased, and after she shrugged off his concern about the slavers with ease, Ciran chose not to push the topic any further. Instead, he remained caught in her spell, appreciating the opportunity to watch her exposed backside as she walked off shamelessly towards the bathing area. The locksmith couldn't help but wonder to himself what took him so long to find her. Even if she mainly satisfied his most basic of needs, the thought of relinquishing her company to him only grew more and more dreadful.

After snapping out of his momentary stupor, Ciran made his way back to the main workshop, where he resumed his task in constructing the orders demanded of him the other day. To him, this work was often grueling and tedious, in stark contrast to the pleasures Isolda treated him to as of late. So when the wanderer snuck back into the shop after finishing her shower, feeling all too fresh, clean and much better groomed, she would find the locksmith carrying a noticeably more downbeat expression. This, to him, was work. Combined with the returning anxiety of having to send the living highlight of his day off to deal with some of Havenport's less savory inhabitants, the task of putting together all of those locks was not something that thrilled him in the least, and it was plain to see upon his face. No customers had walked in just yet, and Ciran was completely unaware of Isolda's re-entry into the shop. When the swordswoman made a conscious effort to be stealthy, it often took more than the average level of perception to notice her presence.

 

[Tassadar]

Re: Gangs of Havenport (Tassadar) GMed by Takimaru

Isolda's mischievous smile broadened as she beheld Ciran at work. It was plainly obvious that there were things he'd rather be doing - undoubtedly to her - and that his task at finishing the commissioned locks was one that he didn't much relish at the moment. 'Well..... Might as well give him some sort of distraction~'

Ciran hadn't detected her, and the dampened swordswoman slowly crept forward on the pads of her feet, ensuring that he didn't detect her in her approach. When she reached him, Isolda let out a soft sigh just as she stepped up directly behind him, allowing him to feel the swell of her breasts against his back, her nipples hardened by the cold and poking against Ciran's back possibly able to be belt through his clothes. Her arms wrapped around him, one hand settling onto his stomach and the other doing the same, but gradually drifting lower to settle over his crotch. "That was very refreshing... Thank you!" the nude swordswoman cooed softly into her lover's ear.

Regardless of his reaction, Isolda held him in place with one arm while the hand on his crotch began to slowly rub over his length through his pants. "I'm not sure that I properly thanked you for breakfast in bed either...."

 

[Takimaru]

Re: Gangs of Havenport (Tassadar) GMed by Takimaru

GM:
Taken completely off-guard by Isolda's stealthy maneuver, Ciran froze up when he felt the wanderer's cool nips pressing against his back, failing to stifle a surprised gasp. "Auuhhh... I-Isolda," he uttered, releasing a soft grunt in reply to his newest lover's bold actions. While his length was initially limp upon first inspection, it took little time at all for him to grow quite hard beneath the Voidic one's touch, and a few strokes proved to be more than enough to rouse the man's member to the desired hardness. She apparently hadn't failed to surprise him with her nearly insatiable sexual appetite, even up until now with the various stunts she pulled over the past several days. Still, even with the hesitance Ciran exhibited for the first second or two, Isolda knew that it was little more than an act, a byproduct of societal conditioning that thinly hid the locksmith's sizable libido. After all, he wasn't making any moves to stop her, or even uttering any words of actual protest. The worry and stress in his mind about getting the locks done in time faded very quickly under Isolda's tease.

His eyes wandered over to the door, knowing that he had unlocked it to open up shop for the day and that it could swing open at any moment. Provided, it had a few small bells hanging from the knob to serve as an alert, but should anyone open it, the two would practically be in plain sight unless Isolda opted to lower herself beneath the front counter.

PC:
“Of course it’s me~ Do you often bring girls in here like this or something?” she asked with a giggle, her hands happily continuing to tease him through the barrier of his trousers. Her grin only widened as she noticed his glance toward the door, and the wanderer let out a light laugh and simply continued her motions…. For a moment or so. Then, her actions paused so that she could slowly unbutton his pants, and then pulled them down enough that the cock she’d been playing with so often over the last two days was allowed out into the open air. “Not even a word of protests! You’re such a naughty boy Ciran…. Almost as naughty as I am!” she cooed into his ear, her hand slowly settling into a reduced version of her earlier teasing as she glanced toward the door herself. “Someone could walk in at any moment…. What ever would we do?”

GM:
"N-No, of course not!" Ciran stammered, his breathing growing noticeably shallow thanks to the swordswoman's skillful fondlings. "But I... nnnh..." He tilted his head back, biting his lower lip in anticipation as she went on. Then, when she paused, Isolda could almost feel the disappointment in the artisan's body language. For as much of a minx as she was, his facade of being a responsible craftsman was a flimsy one indeed. However, he'd get the hint when she freed his manhood from the restrictive fabric of his bottoms, allowing his shaft to spring upwards unhindered. He hadn't yet washed from last night, so it seemed, giving the wanderer first dibs on the bath, but his usual scent was still enough not to ruin Isolda's mood, instead bolstering it if anything.

"You make it so hard," he explained, "to say no, I mean! Oh, by Erion..." His mouth crinkled at her words. "I c-could... lock the door for a few hours," he offered. Though he said as much, to make it there with his cock already out only for a customer to open the door would make for an especially awkward moment.

PC:
Isolda chuckled at Ciran’s slip, finding it both adorable and amusing all at once, and in response to his attempt to recover she quipped; “I’ve noticed! I do hope I manage to keep that streak going for a good long while yet~” Her impassioned stroking only grew more energetic as he glanced again towards the door, and she gave a few mock tsks of disappointment before purring; “No…. I don’t think you’ll need to lock your door~” Her stroking began to concentrate around the head and the section of the underside nearest to it, her fingers sliding slowly over the most sensitive portions of Ciran’s manhood for a few moments before Isolda stopped.

Releasing him, she slipped around to the front of the table, and bent over it slowly, displaying her shapely and utterly bare bottom for his appraisal. “There doesn’t seem to be anybody outside….” She cooed thoughtfully, and then glanced back at him with a playful smile and added; “Though… Maybe I ought to move out of sight, hrm? Someplace where anybody walking in won’t get an eyeful?”

GM:
"Really? But..." uttered the locksmith in response. The logic in his mind told him that a locked door no doubt meant that he was getting lucky this morning, with the alternative perhaps meaning that the white-haired beauty's initial gestures were nothing more than a mere tease, as Isolda was still difficult for him to read properly. It was clear enough that the two still operated on fairly different wavelengths, with the wanderer far proving more devious than her plaything. Ciran swallowed hard as his gaze shifted between her and the door that could open at any moment. As if to contrast with his nervous energy, Isolda looked all too confident about the situation, having brought his cock out and playing with it shamelessly, no less. Despite his verbal hesitance, the man's body didn't lie, and a bit of precum began to dribble from the tip of his warm rod as Isolda's fingertips brushed along his most sensitive parts.

"Agh... uuuhh! Hhnn," he groaned, his expression wilting a little--but not his erection--when the warrior released him from her grip yet again. The growing frustration was plain to read upon Ciran's visage as Isolda leaned over the table, exposing her backside to him. He wanted nothing more than to take her right then and there, to fuck her with reckless abandon, but a few lingering mental restraints and an understandable respect (or fear) for Isolda kept him from doing just that. "Sure," was all that he managed to say, before the bell could be heard jingling just slightly. Someone was entering the shop.


PC:
And that was her cue! Isolda hadn’t expected it, but the arrival of someone caused her to quickly dive beneath the counter before they could actually see anything of her. Despite the dangers, however, the wanderer couldn’t help but grin as she shifted around to face Ciran as silently as she could, and grabbed him by the hips to pull him closer to her, as if trying to ensure that his nudity would be hidden from the person entering the shop. That illusion would be dispelled a moment later as her lips sealed over his leaking tip, her tongue flicked out to collect his spilled precum and coat the head of his manhood in her saliva. As whoever had opted to enter the shop came in, Isolda would look up at Ciran innocently even as the fingers of one hand sealed around the base of his shaft, its palm resting against his sack and giving it the occasional light rub. Her tongue began to make slow circles over the head, and Isolda’s lips parted slowly as she started edging forward, taking more and more of Ciran’s length into the warm confines of her mouth.

GM:
Ciran's hasty efforts to ready himself for the day's first customer were in time with Isolda's, and he quickly shuffled forward to press himself tightly against the edge of the counter. This gave the safely hidden wanderer all of the control over his lower half that she could ask for. His manhood twitched noticeably at her first lick, releasing more of the slightly salty fluid for her to taste.

Conflicting emotions swirled in the smith's chest. On one hand, there was the logical, responsible thing to do, which was focus on the new visitor so as not to ruin his reputation and career. On the other, there was the primal desire to indulge in the more carnal pleasures that Isolda chose to treat him to, as well as more intense sensations that he knew her to be capable of. She would bring him to that next level of bliss just in time for the audible footsteps to reach the counter. The head of his cock sunk in between her soft lips, and yet there was so much more to go... but Isolda was good. Too good. Instead of giving him such gratification all at once, she went about it methodically, working him down into the warmth of her mouth little by little. "Ohhhh..." he sighed, unable to help himself.

"Are you alright?" asked a voice from across the counter. Isolda couldn't see who it was, but she could make out enough of the speech to recognize that the words belonged to those of a female, and a relatively young one at that.

"Err... y-yes!" stuttered Ciran, trying to stay as upright and convincing as possible. "How may I... nnnhh... help you today?"

An awkward pause ensued before the customer continued. "Um... alright, if you say so. Well, I've been needing a lock installed on my establishment, a really good quality one."

PC:
A woman. And a young one too! If Isolda had been less sane or a little bit less considerate, she might have tried to work in a way to get the stranger to join in. She could tell that Ciran was making an effort to be professional, however, and so she kept her mouth shut… Tightly around his cock. Her tongue dipped past the head to flick slowly back and forth over the sensitive area just beneath the head, a spot she often attacked relentlessly when performing this particular carnal act, but this time she was gentler. She worked to tease Ciran, not to earn a mouthful of his liquid gift, and so continued to lick and suckle very lightly so as not to make any noise, keeping her gaze centered up at his face to watch his reactions as he dealt with his customer. Even so, her efforts were not inconsiderable ones, as she kept her tongue dancing around his tip and against his frenulum, providing enough pleasure to at least disrupt the locksmith a little bit as the fingers she had ringed around his base began to stroke him slowly.

She waited until their conversation entered a moment when he was speaking loudly enough that it wouldn’t be heard to release his cock with a pop, but no mercy was shown regardless of Ciran’s hopes at that point. Her mouth trailed kisses along the side of his shaft until she reached his base, at which point she shifted and gave one of his balls a lewd kiss before licking him from the base back up to the tip, stroking him all the while. She repeated her lick after moving her fingers back to the base, gathering up any precum that he might have leaked, and then did it again three more times before returning the tip to the light suction of her mouth and pausing in her more potent actions to simply roll her tongue over the head.

GM:
Ciran was all too thankful for the wanderer's consideration, as well as the gentleness with which she sucked on him, as anything much more intense than what she had treated him to already would have made his struggle to stay composed all but impossible. Thanks to the relatively slow pace at which she worked, the locksmith managed to stay calm enough to answer the other woman's inquiries.

"I-I see... I uh, can certainly help with that. So you've, ahem, currently no lock at all?"

"I do, but it's rather old and flimsy," replied the girl. "I couldn't tell you what kind it is, but it's just a pad of sorts, and I haven't been feeling very safe as of late for various reasons. You know how it is, here in Havenport sometimes. The guard's been stretched thin and what not, so I figured I could use the extra peace of mind. You'd have to come over to take a look at it though. Would you mind doing so, if you're not too busy?"

"Ah, a pad, huh," pondered Ciran aloud. "Yes, I see what you mean. I'd probably recommend a... uhnnhh... bolt type... for better security, as there are a variety of ways people can dislodge locks that are out in the open." Despite Isolda's relatively easygoing pace, she was still having quite the effect on him, and when she made her way to his balls--which she knew to be one of his weak points by now--he couldn't help but to twitch involuntarily and slur his words slightly. "Unfortunatelyyy I-I'm a bit swamped with orders at the moment, but I can uuhh, hnn... t-take a look at it for you tomorrow, if that's a good time..."

A short pause ensued, and Isolda could only imagine the customer's expression to be a skeptical one, given the context. "Mm, are you? Fine. The sooner the better, though. While it isn't an emergency, it's fairly close, in my book, so please, if you can make the time, I'd appreciate it SO much. I'll pay extra, if you need me to."

PC:
Listening in on the conversation, Isolda couldn’t help but be impressed that Ciran was managing as well as he was under her attention. She would have thought that she was getting rusty were it not for the copious amounts of precum that he was releasing for her eager tongue to lap up, and smiled around the tip of his manhood as the girl made her…. Offer. She seemed to wish things done urgently, and didn’t seem to avoid making something that sounded a bit too much like an innuendo to the lustful wanderer for her to not take it as such. Her aura began to stretch slowly, her lusts at the time ensuring that the threatening portion of it was barely noticeable in comparison, and reached out enough to touch against the stranger. It was little more than a light brush, not something that anyone Isolda had ever met would have noticed with their conscious mind, but it was enough to be suggestive, and even at so low a dosage would start to take effect quickly.

Ciran, of course, would be hit by it much harder, both because of her proximity and, of course, because of the continued presence of her lips around his shaft. Those lips squeezed and began to rub back and forth slowly as Isolda began to bob her head, her tongue resuming its tantalizing dance along the underside of Ciran’s shaft as her gaze up at him began to twinkle. This sort of teasing was undeniably arousing to the wanderer, and she was highly enjoying making her locksmith squirm under her advances. Whatever the girl’s reactions to Isolda’s aura, she hardly expected anything to come of them immediately, but perhaps when he went to examine the stranger’s locks she could get her boytoy lucky for a third time in a row if the girl was of a sort to take to that idea, and if Ciran didn’t botch things particularly badly with his straightforward manner.

GM:
"We can discuss the price after I take a look at your door and the s...structure of your entryway, and see what I can do for it," said Ciran politely, trying his best to hold back another groan of bliss as Isolda treated his most sensitive part to as much attention as any man could ask for. While her relatively casual pace proved relaxing in comparison to the more wild, passionate sessions that the two had engaged in up until now, it would only last up until she began to lower the inhibitors to her Voidic aura. While it was difficult for her to tell how well it was working on the one across the counter from the two, she could easily ascertain the effects on Ciran's body. No longer had he fought the urge to lower one hand behind the counter and caress the back of her head to show how well she was doing. It was oddly aggressive of him, but Isolda was quite aware of the behavior she could inspire in most individuals.

"That sounds lovely," remarked the stranger, giggling slightly afterwards. Was Isolda's aura having an effect that quickly? Provided, the woman hadn't quite jumped on him yet, not in the way that Ciran wanted to take the wanderer right then and there. Still, her voice was coy enough to be suggestive at that point, even if it wasn't before.

"Auuhhhuh," moaned Ciran, halfway in between a cry of pleasure and a verbal confirmation that he was still listening.

"I'm on Vente Street, the third building down from the west. It's painted green, you can't miss it! It's where I work, too, so feel free to take a knock anytime. Your name?"

"C-Ciran," he managed to grunt, remarkably.

"Nice to meet you, Ciran. My name's Sena. I'll be seeing you soon, hopefully."

PC:
So, Sena, was it? It was obviously hard for Isolda to tell how well her aura was working on the girl, being unable to see her so as to watch her body language and simply not knowing her in general, but it certainly seemed possible that it was having an inkling of an effect, which was really all that she’d needed. Even with her voidic blood, Isolda was no succubus, and her aura didn’t have the power to make someone jump the nearest person to them even at its highest power, save perhaps for the unique example of Ciran when he found her naked and lusting as she’d been around him for most of the time they’d known one another.

The wanderer didn’t bother to ponder what it might say about her that she’d spent more time around Ciran with clothes off than on, and instead concentrated on the delectable piece of him that she had buried between her lips even then. Smirking still, Isolda began to bob just a little bit faster, letting her tongue coil around the sides while the thicker portion of it rubbed over his underside and rolled against his head. She wasn’t trying to make him cum even then, but if she could get him close she certainly wouldn’t mind, and to that effect she began to stroke him just before pulling her mouth off again. Her mouth descended toward his base, and this time his weak point wasn’t shown the mercy she’d displayed last time.

Her fingers gliding back and forth across his rod, Isolda took one of Ciran’s swollen orbs into her mouth and began to suckle on it, letting out a light hum that he would need to be a leper not to feel. She switched to the other one after a brief span of time and gave it the same treatment, though by that point Sena had likely already departed. If she had, Isolda would release him from the tortures of her mouth for a moment in order to let out a lewd purr and say; “I can’t help myself, you’re just so tasty…. But ahhh, I am so cruel to the poor things! I’ll bet they ache, with how much I’ve made them give me!” She gave each of his balls another period of licking and suckling as if to accentuate her statement before continuing; “But I always just want more… And more!”

Her mouth descended onto his length again, this time swallowing it down hungrily all the way to the base, her gag reflex well and fully suppressed. She began to bob, her throat and lips squeezing and her tongue dancing all the more energetically as she seemed intent on sucking a load of Ciran’s hot cream right out of him. But, just when it seemed as if he were about to step over that edge, Isolda stopped. Her mouth hung onto the barest tip, her tongue flicking up and down over his head, but no stimulation that might offer Ciran the opportunity to finish the rest of the way was offered, and Isolda just looked up at him with a smile.

 

[Tassadar]

Re: Gangs of Havenport (Tassadar) GMed by Takimaru

GM:
"Uurrhnn... r-right! I'll, ahhuh, s-see you then," stammered the man, forcing himself to put forth an awkward smile as the lady on the other side of the counter did the same, taking her leave shortly afterwards. At the very least, he had a new customer. If he was particularly lucky, a potential hookup. Coupled with the unforgettable experiences shared with Isolda as of late, things were looking up for Ciran, and he heaved a sigh of relief as soon as the door swung closed. The bells attached to the doorhandle jingled slightly, then stopped, leaving the room relatively silent, save for the swordswoman's sucking and licking noises.

Only seconds later, Ciran allowed himself a less restrained groan of bliss, leaning forward on the counter to brace himself, as well as to prevent from falling over one way or the other. Isolda could feel the man's warm member twitching within her mouth a few more times, and an extra dose of precum touched down upon her tastebuds as a reward for her hard work. It continued to dribble when she moved to his balls, running down the length of his rod and ever present for her to lap right up when she returned to sucking on his member. "Ohhhh, huhhrnnngh," he grunted, shivering. "That w-was... hahh, close... uuh!" When Isolda kissed her lips against the base of his shaft, Ciran's hips began to move ever so slightly, an involuntary reaction from the combination of the pale-skinned beauty's skillful blowjob and her potent aura. With no one in the room, she was free to go wild on him with her services. The subtle swaying back and forth of his hips, his burdened breaths, deep blush and soft grunts told Isolda that she was doing quite a good job of getting him to that climactic point of sheer bliss.

He blinked a few times at her dirty talk, still unable to believe what he was hearing. Never had someone talked to him that way, not even at the Silver Quarters, and though he had spent a few nights with her now, it was still difficult to get used to. In Havenport, one usually had to pay for even a bit of those kinds of words--but a locksmith like him was getting it in spades, for free no less. "You're not cruel at all," he argued, unable to keep his face from twisting into various expressions of pleasure as she went on. He had no reason not to be thankful, given that the only thing he could associate with Isolda at this point, in spite of her obvious profession as a warrior, was nothing but the most wonderful and memorable times. And yet his instincts, greedy as they were, tugged at him, tortured him when she suddenly stopped, leaving him on the edge of orgasm. NOW he wanted to eat his words from before. This was sadistic, to him at least, and while he tried to sum it up to Isolda being playful, the warrior could easily tell that the level of sexual frustration Ciran had built up only skyrocketed with her denial. Of course, it wasn't as if he could do anything should she decide to milk the moment for what it was worth...


PC:
Isolda let out a pleased moan around his tip as she both felt and observed Ciran’s frustration with her denial of his climax, the excitement she gained at denying him so unchanged from when she had first done it two nights prior. After letting him hover for a moment she slid forward slowly, taking him back into the warm confines of her mouth and throat once more and holding him there for several seconds before pulling back with a gasp. She aimed to bring him right to the verge only to frustrate him again and again, and so she released his cock with a pop and went back to sucking on his balls, rolling her tongue over each orb while letting out an eager moan and leaving his shaft momentarily untouched.

“How about now?” She purred as she switched from one orb to the other, sucking on it for a moment before releasing it and adding; “Am I cruel now?” She licked from the base to the tip and then took him in again, bobbing slowly a few times and moaning. “I could do this all day~” Isolda purred after she released him again, another soft popping noise joining the other lewd noises filling the room before she spoke.

“There are two ways you’ll get to cum,” she added, making him wait to learn what those might be as she went back to licking the sides of his shaft. After giving another lick along the underside from his balls all the way up to his tip and sucking on it, she popped free again and added; “You can wait until I want to let you cum…. Or…” She began to bob slowly and sensually again, letting the other option hang in air.


GM:
As she took him right back in, she could feel a sense of urgency coming from his movements. Normally, Ciran wasn't assertive enough, given Isolda's somewhat intimidating aura and stature, to initiate sexual advances too heavily for fear of upsetting the clearly formidable woman. But the tension that had built up in his loins, instigated by her no less, had him feeling far too desperate. He needed it, badly, and somehow her words seemed less like an idle taunt and more like a true challenge.

It was difficult enough for him to decide whether to beg or to take it for himself, but before his conscious thought could even finish the arduous process of deciding, his body began to move on its own. The movements of his hips turned from their slow shifts to actual thrusts when Isolda welcomed him back into her mouth, and his hands clutched the back of her head with unexpected boldness. He wasn't so strong as to keep her down on his cock if the warrior truly exerted herself, but she could tell that a more assertive side had risen to the surface, if only because of her own doing.

"Nnngghh... you're terrible," he protested, for once, finally coming to life as she pulled away and egged him on with continued questions. "Do you even know how bad you make me want you?! Uwohh, hnngh! Tell me already! How?!" His mouth hung agape as he panted, making eye contact and awaiting her answer, though not nearly as patiently as he should. The man's balls had swollen up further, turning a light shade of red, and before long a dull pain could be felt reverberating through his groin. "Urrghh," groaned Ciran in pain.


PC:
When Ciran suddenly grabbed her head and started outright thrusting into her mouth, Isolda let out a moan of mixed surprise and pleasure. Her throat and lips tightened, and she eagerly began to bob and suckle on him, and started giving the locksmith’s shaft a series of wild licks as well. Given how pent up he was, Ciran likely wouldn’t have last long under those circumstances if Isolda had allowed it to continue, and his sudden domineering side had her aroused enough to let him go ahead and bring himself right up to orgasm…. Almost. As much as she wanted to, Isolda was enjoying her teasing far too much to let Ciran cum just yet, and was still by far the strong of the two of them. As such, just as she could feel him getting ready to pop, she froze and held herself with only the tip in her mouth, her tongue rolling as she placed both hands onto his thighs while she looked up at him with a warning present in her eyes, one that would be intensified by the feel of her teeth against the sensitive head of his cock.

A moment later all was well again, however, and Isolda giggled in response to Ciran’s demanding outcry following her continued teasing. “I can tell you want it really bad,” she purred, and gave his shaft a series of kisses and light licks that ended at his swollen testicles, which she gave another vigorous round of sucking to in an effort to ease their ache. She raised herself up a little after releasing his sack, a lewd grin on her face, and a moment later Ciran would feel his shaft enveloped by the soft cushion of her breasts, tilted up slightly so that the tip of it was the only part that was visible. She began to pump slowly, her saliva providing ample lubrication for her actions, and cooed; “Well…. You can either wait for me to finish you…. Or you can pick me, put me on this conveniently placed counter, and fuck me. No locking the door… And you’d better not deprive me of the treat that I earned by cumming inside of me either!”


GM:
For a few memorable moments, Ciran fucked her throat with inhibitions largely removed, his movements more like those of a horny animal than a civilized human. "Hahh, hauhh... hahh," he panted loudly, his tortured sack slapping against Isolda's chin in time with the steady rhythm of his fevered strokes. She could sense the excitement in his cries of pleasure as well as his body language. He began to elevate himself up on his tiptoes as his glutes tightened, the man's body preparing for its long-awaited release...

And then, nothing. Despite his exertion, he couldn't move forward for some reason, realizing just seconds later that it was Isolda's doing. Another deep feeling of defeat filled his chest as the thrusts were forcibly stopped by the one on her knees. Even from such a position, it wasn't terribly difficult for the Voidic vixen to exert her authority, and the look she gave him caused Ciran to freeze--a notable feat, given that he had been humping away at her mouth so dynamically only seconds earlier. He then felt the slight brush of her teeth against the sensitive tip of his manhood, and knew better than to attempt to force anything, even in the face of his overwhelmingly high frustration level.

"Of course, I... hahh... do," he answered, unable to lie if he tried. Ciran shuddered when she moved back to his scrotum yet again, his expression changing into a grimace as he struggled to make sense of the various sensations overcoming him. Certainly the licks and kisses she planted upon the surface of his jewels felt all too good, but they didn't serve to completely dull the pain deep within his loins. Caught in a limbo of sorts between agony and sexual bliss, he could only give her a pleading look, to which the woman answered by lodging the locksmith's shaft in between her ample mounds. It felt amazing, in its own special way, enough so to soften the blow even further, so to speak, and yet her suggestion--that he could *fuck* her, if he wanted--was immediately picked up by the man in spite of his wavering attention span.

Given the 'warning' she gave him earlier, the more fearful part of his being would have caused Ciran to hesitate in response to her suggestion... if only it weren't for the side of him that wanted nothing more than to ram her as hard and fast as he could. The latter ultimately won out; he would do it if it was the last thing he did. Locked doors be damned. Customers be damned. "Ahhuh," was all that he could utter. He wanted her so badly at that point, words barely worked anymore. Not that they were even necessary, now, as only his actions would show how much he wanted it. And act he did. The locksmith clutched her shoulders and firmly guided her up onto the counter, upon which Isolda could either lay back on comfortably or sit upon while using Ciran's upright body for balance. It didn't matter; either way, the wanderer would feel the rounded head of her partner's rod, already glistening with her own saliva, easing its way in between her lower lips. With a deep sigh, Ciran expressed his deep satisfaction, then began to move.


PC:
Letting out a pleased moan as she was guided up, his shaft released from the embrace of her bosom, and placed upon the counter. That the door was unlocked and that someone could walk in at any moment only made it more exciting for her, and as Isolda sat up on the counter and placed her arms around the back of his neck, her legs parted and circled around his back immediately. She let out a soft coo as her warm, wet folds were touched by the head of his turgid shaft, the blowjob she’d given him having been enough preparation for her as much as it had been for him. “You naughty boy~” she purred, her final statement before her breath was stolen from her by a loud moan that issued as he pushed into her folds.

Her saliva and her juices were more than enough lubrication by that point for him to slide right in, and once he was inside of her Isolda initially refused to allow him out, her thighs and her sex both squeezing tightly to keep him in place. The angle created by their position ensured that he could take her deep, which was exactly what she wanted at that point, and after a moment she released him and gasped; “Hard…. Give it to me hard!”


GM:
"Uhhhnnn..." groaned Ciran, his eyes nearly glazing over in heavenly bliss as he swooned, his face telling his lover all she needed to know about how good their completed union felt. Though his first few thrusts were relatively slow, having been made while he attempted to accustom himself to the familiar feel of her depths once again, it didn't take very long at all for him to pick up the pace. The wood of the counter supporting Isolda's weight began to creak as Ciran got right to fucking her. Their coupling resulted in lewd, wet slapping noises that echoed through the establishment as his hips impacted hers repeatedly. Isolda could feel the weight of his aching balls, which she had spent a fair amount of time teasing and torturing, now slapping against her pussy's exterior as Ciran plowed her without hesitation.

Pushing himself in deeper and deeper until he was hilting her with each stroke, he worked mainly towards his satisfaction alone, having been denied it for longer than he would have liked... and yet, for Isolda, the experience proved quite stimulating for her as well. She didn't even need to order him to take her harder and faster, as that was exactly what he did with each passing moment, driven on by his natural instinct. Being fucked so wildly after having removed her partner's 'limiters' was something of a new experience even for Isolda, or at least it certainly felt that way after such a long time. The warrior's entire body rocked back and forth from the force of her partner's fervent thrusts, her large jugs bouncing up and down in time with the pace that was set near the beginning.

As her juices began to flow and mix with the saliva and precum coating Ciran's member, a lewd squelching noise was added to the plethora of sounds echoing throughout the building. His cock nudged her cervix with every stroke, and yet instead of painful, it was undoubtedly pleasurable for Isolda, sending ripples of ecstasy throughout her core and along her spine. The feeling of being bred and desired in such a manner, especially after having consciously exuded her aura to its higher effects, was incomparable to most joys she had experienced, perhaps even the thrill of battle or the victory that often followed.


PC:
“Yesssss! Fuck me naughty boy!” Isolda cooed as Ciran began to move, indicating that he had no intentions of holding back as his first thrusts took advantage of her wetness by coming quick and hard. It was exactly what she’d wanted, a wild beast to pound into her without sentient thought. The wilder he got, the more the wanderer enjoyed it, and as their bodies met with those telltale soft slaps her pleasured moans began to rise above them. Pleasured raced through her as he pumped against her, and she closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against his for added support as Ciran fucked her right on his counter.

She writhed for him, her motions no less like those of a wild animal than his own as she cried out her passions. Every press against her cervix sent a spike of pleasure rising up her spine, only to come back down just in time for the next, and the faster he went the more she twisted. Isolda’s spine curved, leaning further against Ciran as she caused her passage to shorten and ensured that he struck that sensitive spot all the more. Her heavy breasts jiggled against his chest with every thrust, and her cries took on a more intense tone as her angling caused a portion of his shaft to run against her g-spot as well, adding even more pleasure to the already intense sensations that were dominating her senses.

Already highly aroused, Isolda could feel the familiar pressure of an orgasm building quickly, and made no efforts to slow its growth as Ciran pounded away at her. She shifted her head so that her chin rested against his shoulder, letting him hear the noises that his rapid thrusts inspired all the more intimately as her folds squeezed and spasmed with pleasure around his cock, her muscles tightening and relaxing to give him as much pleasure as he was giving her. It was a bit of an amazement that he hadn’t pumped her pussy full of his cum as it was, given how much she’d teased him, but when he did push her over the edge – which didn’t take long at all – Isolda let out a lewd scream of passion and squeezed him all the harder.

Her thighs squeezed around him again as she came, allowing her juices to spray against him to run down and coat his sack. Her inner walls clamped and then spasmed, her muscles contracting rapidly and making the pleasure that they provided against him all the more intense, squeezing as if to milk the member that was buried within them of its seed. Whether Ciran remembered her demands or not, Isolda hardly cared at that point, she was so caught up in the pleasures of her incredibly satisfying climax, and to say that resisting the urge to cum inside of her at that point would be easy for him after all of the teasing she’d done to him was unreasonable at best.

 

[Takimaru]

Re: Gangs of Havenport (Tassadar) GMed by Takimaru

Status:

Spoiler

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

As Isolda pressed her forehead against that of Ciran's, he took it upon himself to steal a kiss from her. He didn't go very far with it, making for a relatively innocent gesture in comparison to the lewd motions that the rest of their bodies were engaged in. While she was free to deepen it if she so wished, it wouldn't last for terribly long, as the mind-boggling ecstasy building up within the artisan needed some sort of release, which he would start by voicing his pleasure.

"Hnnn! Hnnn! Uuhhh... ohhh!" moaned the locksmith between ragged breaths, spurred along by his more primal instincts. Even with Ciran trying his best to speed towards an orgasm of his own, Isolda had little issue getting there as well. The slight adjustments that she made in the heat of the act ensured that her partner struck the sweetest of her spots deep within with every plunge into her tight cunt, and it wasn't long at all before she felt herself speeding towards her peak. She had built up quite a thirst for sex over the long boat ride to Havenport, and now it was being quenched and then some. Yet despite her recent experiences with Ciran, she somehow wasn't quite able to get enough, as the lucky man was still clearly trying to adjust to the wanderer's unbelievably high libido. She could tell by the early strain in his features that he hadn't yet fully recovered from the previous night, given that his body hadn't undergone training as intense as that of Sorio's--and certainly not Ulfring's. For someone as physically average as he was, however, Ciran did quite a good job with what he had, which was enough for Isolda for the time being.

And then, it hit her. The consistency and speed of Ciran's quick, short thrusts were enough to send the white-haired beauty over the edge, and she came, her juices squirting liberally over her partner's groin, ensuring that the cleanup to follow would be no simple task. The squeezing and spasming of her slick vaginal walls upon the man's throbbing cock made it all but impossible for Ciran to hold off any longer, and he grit his teeth, unable to take it any longer. Before he knew it, he released the first spurt inside her, and Isolda felt the first shot of her lover's hot load sloshing against the opening to her womb. As soon as he realized it, however, Ciran pulled out, amazingly demonstrating the presence of mind to remember the white-haired vixen's words, and quickly guided her to her knees with one hand while easing the rest of his seed out with the other. A thick, goopy thread of his cum stretched out from between the tip of his manhood and Isolda's pink crevice as he withdrew, with the second and third ropes splattering in a pattern against her midsection and chest.

The next three shots would begin to wane, one after the other, but if Isolda lowered herself further, she could catch them in her mouth or on her face if she so pleased, seeing as Ciran had already painted her jugs with the sticky substance. Either way, there was no stopping the flow of his potent seed; how the swordswoman managed to take it was up to her. The man groaned loudly in elation, emptying himself out with the beautiful wanderer kneeling in front of him, his eyes locked onto her face so that he might burn the amazing imagery into his mind forever. He would have given something of an apologetic look, if he wasn't so lost in a paradise of sheer pleasure.

Then, when the last few spurts of his cum impacted her tongue (or wherever she had it land), the chime of several bells could be heard. It was too late--the door had already opened, and not one, but three sets of footsteps came marching into the shop in short order.

A vaguely familiar voice, angry as ever, burst across the room. Isolda would recognize it as belonging to one of the trio from the previous night. "Locksmith! It's late in the morning now, and we've received no delivery from your wench. I expect our order to be finished, just as you promised last night--"

The dark-skinned man made a face as he stopped his stride, reaching the front of the counter only to accidentally peer just over it. And there was Isolda, on her knees and just having received a fresh load from Ciran. The locksmith turned his head somewhat slowly towards the three slavers, offering only a startled look. It earned him a look of disgust from the leader of the three, and amused chuckles from the other two.

"I thought you to be more competent than this," said the leader. "We've paid you all that so you could be skimping out on your obligations to enjoy yourself with your messenge--no, your whore?!"

The one to his right grinned at both Isolda and Ciran, folding his arms. "Mudir, I think he's just given us some cargo to go along with those locks then, don't you? We can take them both and our client will be pleased either way."

The head thug glanced sideways at his subordinate's recommendation, only to return his gaze to the couple in their awkward afterglow. "Yes," he replied. "You're right."

While they certainly weren't the toughest Isolda had ever faced in terms of potential opponents, she was still on her knees, with a great mess upon her naked form, and her legs were still slightly weak from the orgasm she experienced only seconds earlier. To make matters worse, she was unarmed, with only a towel nearby to use as a weapon. She could make a mad dash for Ciran's bedroom, but that would leave the locksmith vulnerable to any sudden attacks from the trio, who had already begun to hop over the counter. Whatever Isolda did, she had to do it quick.

Spoiler

Enemies appeared!
Slaver Leader
Slaver Thug x 2
She's gotta fight these guys while frosted like a cinnamon roll.

 

[Tassadar]

Re: Gangs of Havenport (Tassadar) GMed by Takimaru

Isolda let out a startled gasp as she felt Ciran's first spurt fired up into her, the dregs of her orgasm causing her cervix to drink his potent cream up like it was fine wine, but when he pulled out and pulled her down she was already moving by the time his hand touched her shoulder. The wanderer groaned as his second spurt was sprayed over her mound and stomach, but then smiled in delight and grabbed his shaft to angle it properly (and ensure that he kept cumming) as the rest of his load was splattered over her chest. The rest of Ciran's climax was drawn out over her bust, right where she'd wanted it in the first place, and every splatter of his warm goo against her pale skin caused a shiver of delight to run up Isolda's spine. Even though he seemed to still be recovering from last night's session and lacked the endurance training that many of her partners, including Sorio and her former mentor, had possessed, the locksmith was putting on an impressive performance, and even managed to produce plentiful quantities of cum for her to enjoy. Her hand stroked rapidly as she leaned her head back and opened her mouth, sticking her tongue out and again changing the angle of his cock as it gave up its last few spurts to her, so that the tip of his manhood rested on her tongue as his sperm dribbled out of it.

Excitement was still running through her as the well seemingly went dry, but Isolda was not to be denied every drop of the release that she'd inspired and leaned in, taking his cock back into her mouth with an eager moan. Relentlessly aroused by that point, Isolda began to bob back and forth in order to ensure that Ciran was completely empty, only silencing her demanding noises when the bells attached to the door rang to signal that someone was entering. She could only smile as she looked up at the expression on Ciran's face, one that was undoubtedly being seen by his newest customer, but that smile vanished as the ones who had entered spoke in a voice that she recognized. 'Shit!' Quickly swallowing what she had in her mouth and pulling away, the wanderer's lust was rapidly erased from her mind - though not from her body just yet - as she found herself naked and partially covered in Ciran's cum while looking up at the slaver that she'd met yesterday. The look she sent back up at him was a mix between the demure lustful expression she'd held while sucking the locksmith off and the annoyed glare she adopted when she noticed his disgusted look.

That was just an insult! Even so, the nude warrior couldn't help but panic a tiny bit as she was caught so utterly flat footed, the phrase "caught with her pants down" very much an understatement. Her weapons were all upstairs, well out of her reach unless she left Ciran to the mercy of these three, something that she suspected the locksmith would not survive for very long. Ciran himself seemed a bit slow on the uptake, and as she realized this Isolda yanked his pants back up and shoved him back as she rose quickly to her feet. "Planning to cage me are you?" she said quickly, her voice cracking a tiny bit as she took a step slightly to the side. "I suppose you lot aren't familiar with late mornings then? This is very inconvenient! You wouldn't happen to want to go and wait a little bit longer?" she said, her voice immediately becoming more confident as her eyes finished their sweep of the room, and though she did listen the wanderer didn't much care what snide remark the slaver might shoot back in response to her statement.

She was in close quarters against three men, all of them undoubtedly armed but probably looking to grab her rather than kill her. That was an advantage, but not one she could expect to last long once she started fighting back, meaning that her initial moves would need to be decisive in eliminating at least part of the threat. She was unarmed, and the room offered little in the way of armaments for her to take advantage of on initial inspection save for some of Ciran's tools. She very carefully kept her eyes from settling on any of them, instead seeming to concentrate largely on the towel that lay nearest to her. Ciran, though he would likely try to help, was no fighter and could potentially be a liability if things went particularly poorly... Meaning that Isolda was essentially alone in this fight, unarmed, naked, mildly horny, and without much hope of support. 'Well... It's not the first time I've had to defend myself with nothing but my hands, wearing nothing but my birthday suit and somebody's cum. Really killed the mood that time too.'

Between listening to whatever response the slaver leader might opt to reply with, surveying the room, and shifting slowly into a position from which she might be able to defend herself a little bit better, Isolda did the one thing that might get her through this situation in one piece. She called upon her void-born power, doing so in the most subtle way she could without sparing the power she'd need, resulting in the only change to her body that came as a result being a shift in the color of her eyes from their normal steely blue-grey to a solid blood-tinged red. If she got some sort of response that allowed it, Isolda would undoubtedly issue a quip of some sort in response just before she suddenly lunged for the nearest tool, a short metal tool with a sharp point that she couldn't name and didn't particularly care to at the time.

Assuming her lunge was successful and didn't get her impaled or otherwise incapacitated, Isolda lunged at whichever of the two men coming for her was nearest next. She had to stay mobile, that much she was certain of, but she also had to make sure that she didn't take a blade to the back or somesuch, or that if she ensure that it wouldn't kill her outright. As such, her ever flexible powers were bent to increasing her speed and making her skin as hard as stone, and she put them to good use as she shoulder checked into her target and then went to work. The tool was held with its point facing downwards, and if her blow had destabilized her target enough to give her an opening she raised it and drove it back down in the blink of an eye, aiming to drive the point into the unfortunate slaver's neck at an angle that would allow her to quickly tear it out and drive it back in on the other side. If she landed both hits, Isolda would grab the man by the shoulder and yank the tool across, rending out the flesh of his throat and undoubtedly adding a splash of red to the goo coating her face and chest.

If, for some reason, Isolda was unable to go for her target's throat, she would go for the next best thing. After wrenching her improvised weapon out of whatever it had been embedded in, Isolda would flip it in her grasp and stab it into the man's side instead, aiming just under the pit of his arm where any arm he wore would offer little to no protection. Assuming that hit landed, her next target was a twisting strike that would put the tool right up into the man's chin, aiming to drive it through the flesh of there and then up through the soft palette, as sure a death sentence as she could give. If her target did indeed fall in either way, Isolda would turn to the other man coming for her and widen her stance, holding her improvised weapon wide as if it were a dagger and grinning genuinely now. It hadn't been a great start to the fight, being on her knees and naked, but the wanderer's blood was up now, and as short as this particular scuffle would probably be one way or the other, Isolda was starting to enjoy the rush of blood that came with active violence once more.

Spoiler

Isolda goes for the nearest sharp pointy tool after activating Aspect of Spirit X = 8 for a total cost of 1 HP and 10 EP after breaking her ceiling by 1. This gives her +32 to attack rolls, +24 to damage rolls, and +16 AV.

Then cometh the murder. She uses Lightning Strikes and 10 Defensive Fighting on one of the mooks, and her stats for the round after including the Aroused penalty are:

Dodge: 66 (56 on the round she buffs, cuz no defensive fighting)
Armor: 16
Resistance: 25 (35 vs Mind Affecting)
Perception: 25
Stealth: 23
Grapple: 50
Spirit Ceiling: 8
Attack: 50 + 3 - 10 - 10 - 12 + 32 = +53
Damage: I'm not sure, but if this thing counts as a one handed sword it would be 2d6 + 25 (Body) + 3 (Berserker) + 24 (Aspect) - 6 (LS) = 2d6 + 46


Rules Copy Pasta for easy Reference!

Lightning Strikes – The character attacks three times instead of only once, but each attack takes a -12 penalty to its attack roll and a -6 penalty to damage. These attacks need not be against the same creature. Requires Duelist.

Aroused: The character takes a -10 penalty on attack rolls as they are distracted by their lust. In addition, they can no longer attempt to resist pleasure damage.

 

[Takimaru]

Re: Gangs of Havenport (Tassadar) GMed by Takimaru

Status:

Spoiler

Isolda: HP = 90/91, PP = 41, EP = 32/42, Status = Aroused, Aspect of Spirit activated (X=8)

Rolls:

Spoiler

Initiative: Mooks win.
Slaver Thug A attempts a grapple (vs Isolda):
(Rolled a 4) + 30 = 34. Failed.
Slaver Thug B attempts a grapple (vs Isolda):
(Rolled an 8) + 30 = 38. Failed.

Slaver Leader attempts a grapple (vs Ciran):
Success. Auto-success, really.

Isolda activates Aspect of Spirit (X = 8), success ofc.
Isolda moves to weapon, acquires it. Activates Lightning Strikes (vs Slaver Thug A):
Auto-success. He's... very dead.

Slaver Thug B freezes in place, terrified at what just happened.
Slaver Leader wins the grapple and puts Ciran in a Submission Hold.

As he was still trying to recover from the stupor-inducing pleasure of having Isolda suck on his manhood even after he had coated her face with his warm gift, Ciran grunted and stumbled back not long after the wanderer pulled his pants back up for him and shoved him away. His back hit a nearby counter, and the smith worked to catch his breath even as the situation escalated within seconds. The man's eyes shifted between the thugs and Isolda, having not the presence of mind to even adjust his opened fly thanks to the heated exchange that ensued. It was likely that Ciran hadn't even been in a situation nearly this tense before, unlike Isolda who was no stranger to threats and violence.

"Silence! You shall make no such remarks in the presence of a man," corrected the head slaver, taking Isolda's fairly innocent quip as though it were a brazen insult, her status as a woman earning her only the most condescending of glares. He was already quite angry, from the looks of it, as though the slightest movement would set him off--it was a wonder that he hadn't been provoked to act already. Only when his subordinate made the suggestion to capture Isolda did the man calm down, but it was less so a peaceful kind of standstill than a frightening, cold sort of pause. An eerie grin formed upon his lips, and he nonchalantly motioned towards Isolda. Within an instant, the two tan-skinned henchmen had vaulted over the counter and were soon upon her.

However, she had managed to focus her Voidic power just in time before their hands came in contact with her skin. The otherworldly flow of strength had partially returned to the swordswoman's frame by the time her attackers reached her. If they tried to slash at Isolda or strike her, they would have another thing coming. Much in the same way that her Voidic instincts kept her going for longer during more carnal acts, they could also work in a way similar to an extra rush of adrenaline when she focused them properly--which allowed the quarter-demon to absorb more punishment than she normally would. In this case, her assailants sought not to injure her in this case, but subdue her. Two sets of hands grabbed at her wrists and ankles as the duo sought to bring her down to the ground. Their attempts weren't nearly quick enough to match Isolda's trained reflexes, however, and the naked wanderer bolted just past their grasp, managing to grab hold of a nearby tool. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted the leader jumping over the counter, where Ciran met him in a grapple.

The relentless thugs would not be deterred so easily, however, and one of them leapt for Isolda's legs a split-second after she grabbed ahold of the improvised weapon. While it might have been bad for her had she still been unarmed, she wasn't by that point, and the point of the tool she borrowed from Ciran found its home in the back of the slaver's neck, near the base of his skull. As her steely weapon sunk in deeper, she felt the man's grip upon her thighs loosen, his will to fight waning quickly with the sharp pain wracking his nerves. But for the murderous swordswoman, that wasn't nearly enough. After all, he was still alive, and despite the grievous injury he had incurred, the thug could still find a healer and make a full recovery, if she were only to leave it at that.

Hardly. The feeling of overpowering the man was nearly intoxicating to Isolda in her bloodthirsty state, and she would capitalize on the thrill by giving her weakened assailant another stab, this time to his armpit. Had he allowed the buildup of adrenaline to take him over, like Isolda did, he might have lasted long enough to complete the takedown by driving himself forward. But he couldn't, not with the power and precision of the white-haired woman's attacks--each thrust visibly jarred his body as Isolda kept herself upright. He released another grunt of pain afterwards, but the killing blow, an upward stab through the bottom of his chin, rendered the slaver silent.

While the slain man had managed to wrap her up at first, it didn't last very long in the end, leaving his cohort to view the utterly gruesome scene in a mixture of both awe and terror. It caused man to hesitate, if only for a second--but that, Isolda knew, was more than enough for her to gain the psychological advantage. There was a dagger sheathed at his side, but he didn't even think to draw it. What had just happened? A naked woman, covered in sexual juices, had just slaughtered his partner with frightening ease, as if he were cattle. As Isolda widened her stance, as if to show she was ready for him, the man felt a shiver run up and down his spine. He froze. Though every instinct in his body told him to run, he couldn't even manage to lift his legs at the time. There was no way he could do this! He was going to die.

Then, an interruption came from nearby. "That's about as much killing as you'll do today," pronounced a vaguely familiar voice. It was the head slaver, who had Ciran bent over the counter, an arm locked behind his back. Having overpowered the locksmith during their struggle, he now put his newest hostage on display, putting pressure on his victim's wrist joint and using his free hand to flash a dagger--which he then pointed at the back of Ciran's neck; ironically, where Isolda had first stabbed the leader's own right hand man.

"Rrrgh... Marid," said the man with a frown, his eyes momentarily scanning over the fallen body of his first henchman. "Woman. I should've known you to be more than some common whore. But the time for resisting is over. By all rights, I should kill him while you watch. You are not even in the right, after all; your man owes us some proper work for the money we paid, and I see no such traces of it here. It was only right to begin with that we received some form of compensation. But for you to spill our blood like this--unforgivable! An eye for an eye, is what you deserve," He dug the point of his blade into Ciran's neck, and the locksmith screamed in pain.

"Do not doubt my skill. Though you are quick, I assure you, I can make him utterly... useless to you, before you can reach me. But I am... hahh... reasonable. Why don't you come with us? Despite your apparent insolence, and your blatant murder of my underling, I am sure we can find an agreement that involves your man surviving. All you have to do is suffer in his place, to my satisfaction."

Though Isolda could have easily imagined Ciran urging her to ignore the slaver boss, the locksmith did no such thing. His head was turned the other way--which was lucky for him, as it kept his pale-skinned lover from seeing the terror upon his face. Never before had he been subject to this degree of fear. Sure, Havenport had its thuggish types, which were practically unavoidable for those who lived here, but being this close to death... it was all beyond anything the brown-haired artisan was used to. "I... I'm sorry," Ciran choked out. The slaver pressed down on him further, awaiting Isolda's response.

 

[Tassadar]

Re: Gangs of Havenport (Tassadar) GMed by Takimaru

A normal woman might have been taken aback by the words of the head slaver, but Isolda was anything but normal and thus merely gave him a brief flat look. His condescension of her and general conveyance of utter misogyny wasn't buying him any favors with her, however, and his general reactions to her left Isolda fairly sure that he wouldn't be leaving this room alive. The eery grin that he adopted after the suggestion of his companions more or less sealed his fate as far as Isolda was concerned, but the brazen warrior wasn't so cocky even with the rising high of her voidic gifts to assume that her victory was a given... Not yet, at any rate.

As expected, the two thugs rushed her together, trying to grab for her wrists and for her ankles simultaneously. A lesser fighter would have been easily overwhelmed in her place; fully nude, armed only with a dagger as an improvised weapon, and her limbs still slightly weakened by the sexual encounter she'd had before their entrance. Isolda, however, was no weakling and not one to break under pressure, and so she managed to evade being grabbed by both men and grab up her chosen weapon. She noted the apparent leader and Ciran grappling in after the former leaped over the counter she had been crouched beneath only moments before, but for now her attentions were concentrated on the men who were the immediate threat to her.

One of them was a bit more persistent than that other, making a second rush for her legs while his companion recovered from his attempted rush. That was, to put it lightly, a mistake. And it would prove the very last mistake that he ever made following the wanderer's brutal assault, which left him a crumpled and bloodied heap on the floor just as she'd intended. Once he was dead she whirled in place immediately, fully expecting to have to ward the other man off, but upon seeing the terrified look on his face she broke out into a maniacal grin.

She very nearly broke out into laughter again as the delight of bloodshed rushed through her, adrenaline and fury leaving her nearly euphoric, but then the leader of the trio (now reduced to a duo) spoke up and somewhat spoiled the mood. Isolda turned to him without fully turning away from his remaining companion and, despite the predicament in which she found Ciran, only allowed her smile to falter a little bit. She remained readied, a grin upon her face as she slowly shifted closer and closer to the two remaining slavers as their leader delivered his ultimatum.

Ciran's scream of pain didn't slow her in the slightest, nor did she display any sign of discomfort at it that either of them might be able to pick up. While it might certainly seem that Isolda was utterly heartless, it wasn't without at least some anguish that she looked upon her lover in danger of an undoubtedly painful death. The scenario was uncomfortably similar to the manner in which her mother had lost her life, cut down by slavers before Isolda's young eyes, but she had long since put enough of that grief behind her that it wasn't a distraction sufficient enough to leave her unable to act. The wanderer knew exactly the sort of "punishment" the slime before her would have in store for her if she surrendered, and ending up as a whore by force was the last thing she was interested in. Besides, it wasn't like she could trust him to keep his word, was it? No.... If Ciran was to be saved, it would be by her actions in the next few seconds, not by her surrender.

Of course, as tense as the heated situation was, Isolda wasn't about to pass up an opportunity to deride her foe, and so with an air of utter disdain she offered her reply even as the bloodied tool was flipped back and forth between her hands; "Oh, wow.... You know, I'm not the best person in the world, but I think this might have been the first time a SLAVER has tried to talk down to me with pretentious of honor and moral superiority! Bravo! I've been so many places that it's hard to get first times for anything anymore!" Her grin broadened as the deadly little tool passing between her hands started going faster and faster, the blood-slick handle caught with ease in one hand before being thrown back to the next, a display meant to be as much a fascination to draw attention as it was to be intimidating. "You must be pretty dumb if you think that trick's going to work though... You see, after your open displays of blatant stupidity and violent misogyny, I'm afraid that the urge to watch you die in a most gruesome fashion is nearly irresistible!"

It was then that the wanderer suddenly lunged... But not for Ciran and his captor. In the blink of an eye the frightened man was grabbed and slammed against the locksmith's counter, his head cracking against it and her improvised dagger pressed against the back of his head while her arm held against the back of his neck kept him from doing much in the way of resisting. If that hadn't caused Ciran's death, which Isolda knew was a very real possibility even before she made the huge gamble, the wander began to speak, quietly and quickly; "So. About this pickle we find ourselves in.... Seeing as how you're obviously too much of a coward to engage a naked woman armed with a diamond pick in single combat, I'll make you a deal that might appeal to your slaver's sensibilities. I'll let you walk out of here, with your meat here intact besides his poor shattered nose, and bring you your bindings as agreed upon. It was my distracting of poor Ciran so much while he should have been working that made them a little bit late anyways. You can even conjure some sort of ambush for me while you wait at your little clubhouse, and can leave someone watching to ensure that we don't just wander off with your hard earned coin. I'll even reimburse you for the work you wanted him to do, and then you can fuck off like a good boy and leave the poor locksmith alone." She paused briefly, long enough for the man to swallow the words but likely not enough for him to respond to them, and then smiled sweetly and added; "Or, you could kill Ciran, and then I'll kill your friend here, and then move on to doing things to you that are sounding more and more appealing with every second that I have to look at your ugly face. Rest assured! Kill him, and you will die screaming. Don't kill him, and you walk out of here minus a man for your poor manners and get what you want with your coin back to boot. Your choice."

Spoiler

Grapple ye other guy. 50 grapple vs 30 says Isolda wins if she opts to kill him, since Aroused currently doesn't apply any penalty to grapple checks.

 

[Takimaru]

Re: Gangs of Havenport (Tassadar) GMed by Takimaru

Status:

Spoiler

Isolda: HP = 90/91, PP = 41, EP = 24/42, Status = Aroused, Aspect of Spirit activated (X=8)

The term Isolda used to describe the man, a 'slaver', along with her comments about moral superiority and misogyny, hardly even seemed to register with the target, as if he simply could not comprehend what was so vile about his profession or even his attitude. A naked woman covered in seed, let alone a Westerner who had the nerve to wear a man's armor and show her face in public, was to tell him that HE was in the wrong?

It seemed that such taunts would do little to nudge him from his stone conviction, and so he stood there with a flattened look, his weapon held firmly over the back of Ciran's neck after having produced a noticeable trickle of blood.

Only when the swordswoman lunged for his cohort and assaulted him did the leader's expression change to one of surprise and anger. He thought to finish the job at that point, but ultimately, his hand didn't move. No--he wasn't about to let himself kill off his bargaining chip, as well as the more important figure in the scenario who owed him the locks anyway. To him, the strange woman was at fault for everything that had gone wrong. And now, after having taken his second henchman hostage, she was literally admitting it! The locksmith would not have been late if not for her brazenly lewd behavior.

A tense bout of silence ensued even after the wanderer acquired a hostage of her own and made her offer. The man in Isolda's grip, like Ciran, was in no position to fight back, and could only utter a groan of pain as he tried to cling to his consciousness.

"Bring back the goods plus double the coin, and you in handcuffs. If you accept these terms, you will release my man on the count of three," insisted the leader. "If you don't, I'll kill this man and put you in your place like you deserve. You've caused us more than enough trouble, and I will see to it that you pay appropriately. I wouldn't have even thought of harming this lecherous fool if he had simply honored his contract like a proper artisan. Our business is like any in Havenport, with deadlines of its own. We need those locks today," he growled. It was plain to see that he was quite angry, but he somehow managed to hold it in well enough to avoid doing anything rash, perhaps in an attempt to make himself appear like the reasonable one. His weapon eased off Ciran for just a moment to show that he was prepared to make the exchange.

 

[Tassadar]

Re: Gangs of Havenport (Tassadar) GMed by Takimaru

Isolda's expression didn't so much as tick as the arrogant prick made his absurd counter-offer. It was somewhere between rage and absurd humor that her emotional state ended up once he was finished with it, but not even a trace of it was detectable in the wanderer's face. If she wished for this to go in her favor, Isolda knew that she would need to keep her poker face perfect. After a moment of watching the slaver's body language, Isolda let her frown shift to a scowl, but then she simply nodded and awaited his count to begin as her improvised weapon eased away from the neck of the man she had pinned against the counter. 'Keep gloating... You aren't even leaving this room you arrogant prick,' she thought silently to herself, but kept her face stony while allowing a tiny hint of wary relief to show in her voice as she audibly said; "I push your man toward you, you push him towards me."

Her words, earnestly delivered to the best of her ability, were meant to inspire some sense of security. After all, with Ciran and his compatriot between them, what could Isolda possibly do to him? He had seen a small sample of her quickness to be sure, but he had no idea of the full extent of it, and even though she hadn't fully enhanced her speed she was still more than swift enough to close the distance between the two of them. When Ciran was released at the end of the slaver's count, Isolda would lean back and away from the man she was holding, lifting his face from the counter, and throw him towards the locksmith. Hopefully, the two would collide to form a suitable distraction, but even if they didn't she would have window enough to close the distance between herself and her prey.

If the man agreed to and subsequently went with her suggestion without deviating too heavily for her to adapt to his changes, the wanderer fully intended to shoot around the entangled pair and go for the man. She had no intention of leaving him alive by the end of this, but despite that she didn't want to kill him right away, and with that in mind she chose the targets with her weapon carefully. On that note, her first strike went for the man's elbow, aiming to drive the point of her weapon into the joint of his arm first, ideally crippling it. Whether or not that proved to be a success, her next targets were his lungs or, if he managed to defend his midsection adequately as she suspected he might, his knees. The man was obviously more competent than his associates, and her vicious assault assault left her little room for defense, but if possible she intended to avoid injury as best she could. Her improvised weapon left little room for parrying, but if she could get in closer her mere proximity would make it difficult for a longer blade such as his to find purchase in her flesh. While she might not avoid injury altogether if her attack didn't leave her opponent too crippled to fight, Isolda intended to avoid being fatally wounded or incapacitated as best she could, and even with her hardened skin she could be killed as easily as anyone else if she wasn't careful.

Spoiler

Release ye dude, then move in and Lightning Strikes ye main dude after Ciran and him collide.

Dodge: 56
Armor: 16
Resistance: 25 (35 vs Mind Affecting)
Perception: 25
Stealth: 23
Grapple: 50
Spirit Ceiling: 8
Attack: 50 + 3 - 10 - - 12 + 32 = +63
Damage: 2d6 + 25 (Body) + 3 (Berserker) + 24 (Aspect) - 6 (LS) = 2d6 + 46


Rules Copy Pasta for easy Reference!

Lightning Strikes – The character attacks three times instead of only once, but each attack takes a -12 penalty to its attack roll and a -6 penalty to damage. These attacks need not be against the same creature. Requires Duelist.

Aroused: The character takes a -10 penalty on attack rolls as they are distracted by their lust. In addition, they can no longer attempt to resist pleasure damage.

 

[Takimaru]

Re: Gangs of Havenport (Tassadar) GMed by Takimaru

Status:

Spoiler

Isolda: HP = 90/91, PP = 41, EP = 16/42, Status = Aroused, Aspect of Spirit activated (X = 8)

Rolls:

Spoiler

Isolda's Lightning Strikes (vs Slaver Leader):
(Rolled a 12, 10, 11)... all auto-hits, regardless.

Damage:
(Rolled a 2, 2) + 46 = 50 damage.
(Rolled a 6, 4) + 46 = 56 damage. He should be dead here, but I will leave that to Isolda's discretion.

"As I thought," scoffed the head slaver, keeping his grip upon Ciran's collar tightly until Isolda moved first. When she did, he shoved the locksmith forward in short order. Thanks to the direction and control of the wanderer's abrupt push, the two men to be exchanged bumped into each other, creating a somewhat awkward moment. But it was more than enough of a momentary distraction by which she could seize the initiative. Isolda shot past the collision of bodies, swerving and then dashing in a straight line for her target, diamond pick in hand.

She would find the man ready for her, and the way he shifted into stance almost instantaneously told her that he was not a total novice when it came to fighting with weapons. The flame anger in his eyes nearly matched that of her own bloodlust, and with every ill intent he sought to make her pay for every slight suffered that day. Despite the speed at which Isolda charged in, her opponent struck first, going straight for the kill and delivering a quick, horizontal forehanded slash at an upward angle--one that, if successful, would have slit the wanderer's throat in a rather gruesome fashion.

However, thanks to Isolda's sharp reflexes, it wasn't to be. She had anticipated such an attack from an obviously irate customer, and slipped her head just beneath his swing, causing his dagger to cut short a few locks of her long silver hair. There, during his follow-through, she could see it: the elbow of his right arm, and the perfect target for her first thrust. In the chaos of combat, it was difficult to place blows exactly where they were intended, but be it through focus of skill or just sheer luck, the swordswoman took the tiny, rather insignificant pick and drove it home into the slaver's arm. There, its head buried itself deep into flesh and ligament, finding a home in his ulnar nerve, of all places. While the rush of adrenaline kept the man from screaming out too loud, he would find that his body had already betrayed him; with the flexion ability of his wrist severed rather quickly, he inadvertently dropped his own weapon; the large, curved dagger with which he used to threaten Ciran just seconds before. Despite that, he was already in the process of launching a second attack as if the weapon was still in his grip, yet unaware of his misfortune. A wild backswing produced with his newly opened hand struck Isolda across the face.

But to the bloodthirsty murderess, it was more of a joke than anything; truly laughworthy. Of course, it was unintentional, a merely reflexive action made on her assailant's part, as he hadn't yet grasped his situation. More importantly for the white-haired beauty, it was a proper notifier that her opponent had been disarmed. She would waste no time in taking advantage of this window of opportunity, ripping the locksmith's tool out from the thug's elbow in a gruesomely careless manner, no doubt injuring the nerve further and preventing any chance of him getting ahold of his weapon again with his good hand. If she hadn't earned a signal of pain from the man before, she did then. "Ugaah!" groaned the head slaver, the shock of pain quickly traveling up and down through his freshly wounded arm.

Knowing that a weapon was still one the greatest of equalizers that she would ever have to worry about--at least from her current opponent--Isolda barreled forward, throwing the man backwards and pushing him further away from any hopes of properly retaliating. As she did so, she delivered a second thrust to the Deunic immigrant's trunk, and the tip of her sharp metal tool soon found a home in his chest. It wasn't deep enough to stop him instantly, but the puncturing of what she might guess to be his left lung could easily cause it to collapse. It was then that the naked wanderer found herself on top of the slaver, who had apparently fallen onto his back thanks to the force of her tackle. From that position, it was practically impossible to miss her third thrust, which Isolda could use to seal the man's fate or leave him completely at her mercy.

 

[Tassadar]

Re: Gangs of Havenport (Tassadar) GMed by Takimaru

Just as she'd surmised, the slaver was more prepared for her rush than she might have liked, rage showing in his eyes and in his stance as he prepared to meet Isolda. The sweep of his dagger that he made as she approached would have torn her throat open, killing her hardened skin or no, but her anticipation of it ensured that she was able to duck beneath the sweeping arc of the curved blade, leaving it cutting a few of her silvery hairs rather than her flesh. His swing left him perfectly open to her, and the wanderer was ever one to capitalize on such a golden opportunity when it was presented to her. Her stab left her target's arm crippled, just as she had hoped it would, and after the dagger tumbled from his fingers it was practically over. His second swing managed to issue her a slap against the face, turning her head slightly to the side, but with her body hardened by the powers of the void that were flowing through her and her pure adrenaline she only cracked a wry smile. Withdrawing the makeshift dagger, Isolda slammed it next into his ribs, driving it between them and piercing the man's lung.

She finally earned a scream of pain from her opponent, now little more than a victim, and then the press of her weight and her pure strength was too much for him and both of them tumbled to the floor. Isolda ended up on top of him, and with a quick bit of scrambling was straddling the man with her hand holding the wrist that still worked against the floor. The sight of her over him like that, her body fully on display and still showing obvious signs of arousal after the fun she and Ciran had had, the results of which were still glistening on her chest, was one that any onlooker might have mistaken for something else entirely were it not for the scene of violence that had been left in her wake, and would undoubtedly have been far more alluring to the man beneath her if she hadn't also been coated in blood and directly responsible for the pain that was likely claiming much of his attention by that point.

It was still entirely possible for him to struggle, albeit likely not with much effectiveness given the pain that he was in, and Isolda quickly moved to take away that ability and put him entirely at her mercy. Jabbing the pointed tool down, Isolda nailed the slaver's right hand into the floor with it, twisting the small tool to ensure that it remained embedded in the wood. Then, his crippled hand fully out of her way, she left it there and shifted her full attention to the hand that was still working. He was far enough away from his discarded weapon that he likely wouldn't have been able to reach it before she could intervene anyway, but she doubted that it would hurt (her) to make sure that he was no longer a threat, and with that thought in mind she pulled his hand up and grabbed his fingers. "Glad we could come to an agreement," she quipped with vicious joy, and then wrenched all four of his fingers back until they broke, the audible crunch sending shivers of delight down the wanderer's spine. It was about then that her hips started to slowly gyrate back and forth, an undeniably sensual grind that had her pussy rubbing against his clothed groin.

She wasn't long to maintain that motion, but for a few seconds her heavy breathing might have been attributed more to her lust than to the adrenaline brought on by the brief but bloody fight, and whatever her fallen opponent might say about it Isolda was quick to grab the tool she had embedded in his hand and yank it out violently, separating it from his hand by force if it remained stuck there after leaving the wood. "Thanks for holding that for me," she said with grim humor working to try and hide the purr of her arousal, albeit only with a degree of success. Sliding down a ways, the wanderer looked up at him and smiled widely, her eyes wide with excitement as the hand not clenching her improvised weapon slid down and began to rub at his groin, feeling for her target. Once she'd found it, Isolda began to run the dying man's cock through his pants, working for a few seconds seemingly to try and get him to harden for her, but whether or not her efforts were successful she abandoned them after only a few more seconds.

He would wish that she hadn't one way or another, however, as she slammed the point of the diamond pick down into his crotch, leaving it embedded there. "That was for the attitude... And for cutting my hair, asshole!" she spat, but her voice was tinged with hints of joyous laughter, and the half-elf was grinning so widely that it was starting to hurt the muscles in her face. Of course, by that point it was entirely possible that the man was howling in pain, and she didn't want to attract any further attention despite how much she enjoyed his cries of pain. With that in mind, she calmly slammed her hand into the wounded man's throat if he was being particularly noisy, crushing his windpipe and causing him to choke on his screams. As she rose back to her feet, Isolda would calmly say; "Don't go anywhere, I'll be right back."

And with that, she turned around to face Ciran and the man she had held hostage a few moments earlier. He had had an opportunity to escape while she had dealt with his leader, albeit a brief one, but apparently he hadn't gotten the initiative to do so. Looking at them, she reached a hand up to her breast and picked up some of Ciran's seed as it still clung to her bosom on one of her fingers, and then casually lifted that digit to her mouth and licked it clean in one smooth motion before bringing it between them and sucking on it. Her arousal had her wanting to tackle Ciran and work it out on his body, but there was business to attend to and the locksmith was undoubtedly spent after their last session and probably wouldn't be in the mood when looking at her blood-spattered figure even if her aura was bent towards its arousing nature in full. She turned her attention to the remaining slaver, and smiled around the fingers on which she sucked and decided that an alternative method of working out the needs of her body was required. Her energies were beginning to wane, the tax of her powers rising, but Isolda allowed it to fade partially, considering the man she faced by far a lesser threat than his boss.

Shooting forward like a streak of pale lightning once more, Isolda grabbed the remaining slaver by the throat and lifted him up by main strength alone, using the momentum of her charge to ease his rise from the ground. The power of her charge was played out as she slammed his back into the counter and released him, dropping into a readied stance before him just like the one she had observed Sorio using previously. It was a blatant imitation, and one sorely lacking in his experience in both delivering and deflecting blows, but she tried her best to emulate his power and mobility as she slammed her fist against the last man's face and midsection, using him literally as a punching bag until he was too battered to continue fighting her.

And that was when the fun began. Turning to Ciran after giving a quick glance towards the front of the shop, she calmly and authoritatively said; "Go lock your door. Now. Then get a mop and a bucket, a carpet or tarp that you don't mind losing, and a wheelbarrow. When you've got all that, you'll have to let me take a look at that cut." It was entirely possible that the locksmith might need a bit of prompting after the traumatic events he had just been to, however, and even in her impatience Isolda was at least mildly sympathetic to that fact. If he remained frozen in place, she would step toward him and lay a hand on his cheek, looking him quite firmly in the eyes as her own returned to their normal blue-grey color with the easing of her voidic gifts, and then slap him and tell him to get to it quickly, gently than she might have if actually trying to hurt him and thankfully bereft of her superhuman strength.

Once Ciran was moving, she crouched down to be at eye level with the last of the slaver's that had fallen, whom she had hopefully refrained from killing or knocking unconscious by accident. If, after a cursory examination, she found that he was simply out cold, she would slap him until he regained consciousness, and if he was dead she would simply sigh and rise back to her feet. Assuming that he was alive, Isolda would smile at him as he awoke, and casually intone; "Hi! We haven't been properly introduced, since you and your friends so rudely interrupted my fun earlier. My name's Isolda, I'm still pretty horny, and this can go the easy way..." She punctuated her statement by running her hand over his groin, and then glanced towards his fallen leader before adding; "...Or the hard way." Turning back to look her victim in the face, Isolda concluded with a question; "What's your name?" If her questioning did happen, Isolda could only hope that Ciran wasn't within earshot, as she most definitely wasn't lying about her state of arousal at that point and hearing her say as much to the slaver who had just attempted to harm them might give him the wrong impression of her efforts to lead the man on.

Spoiler

Bunch of fluff stuff, drop aspect of spirit to X = 5 and punch ye remaining guy until he is helpless. Once he is, drop it entirely.

 

[Takimaru]

Re: Gangs of Havenport (Tassadar) GMed by Takimaru

Status:

Spoiler

Isolda: HP = 90/91, PP = 41, EP = 11/42, Status = Aroused, Aspect of Spirit activated (X = 5)

While the sight of Isolda's nude, glistening form straddling one's person would have been good reason for just about any man with an intact sex drive to feel aroused or at least marginally excited, the slaver beneath was in no position to welcome such sentiments, given the increasingly dire situation. Instead, he could only show his attacker an expression of fear and anger--after all, he wasn't being treated to pleasure, but pain, and no trivial amount of it. Despite the fresh sucking chest wound given to him courtesy of the white-haired swordswoman, the rush of adrenaline still kept him struggling for a short while.

To Isolda, it was less of a threat than it was a source of mild amusement, however, as she had the advantageous position on the man and was keen to keep it, having little trouble staying atop him even as he bucked and writhed in desperation as if unable to stay flat. If nothing else, it would only serve to arouse her further given her mood, and if there was a sadistic bone in her body, it would be tickled thoroughly by his reaction to her next move. As she drove the locksmith's sharp metal tool straight through the slaver's hand, effectively pinning it to the floor, Isolda earned a loud cry of agony, and another still as he instinctively tugged up on it in an attempt to free himself. Given how deep the wanderer successfully drove the diamond pick into the floor, thanks to the Voidic power running through her veins, the boss failed in trying to reclaim the use of his injured limb.

Desperate to recover and change the tide in his favor somehow, he employed his remaining arm to blindly search around for the large, curved blade that he had dropped as a result of Isolda's first counterattack, his eyes remaining glued on his assailant's face all the while. Unfortunately for him, the white-haired warrior was quick to intercept his hand, grabbing it with one of her own. His eyes widened as a gradual wrenching motion made by the wanderer followed in short order, bending his fingers back in a way they were not designed to go. While there was much less visible blood involved, Isolda could feel the tearing of ligaments and the building stress upon the man's digits in her grasp. Only seconds later, she then sensed the initial degree of resistance his body offer disappear in an instant as bones broke with a small series of audible pops, and her victim confirmed his condition with yet another scream of pain. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!"

His first instinct was to curl up and grab the freshly injured hand with his other, but he couldn't even do that thanks to the pick keeping it pinned down. Writhing in pain, he arched his back, bumping Isolda up yet again... and still, he failed to make any progress in improving his position. While his suffering apparently played no small part in bringing out the more aggressive Voidic instincts within the deadly vixen atop him, the pain wracking his mind kept him from making it too pleasurable for Isolda, given that he simply couldn't afford to be anything but limp, even as she ground her hips against his suggestively. His mind was on recovery, and Isolda would allow him a brief respite after pulling her improvised weapon from his bleeding hand. When she did, his hands came together in front of him, as they were hurting far too much to do much of anything else.

It wasn't until she slowed her pace and began to stroke him down below that he began to grow hard, an event marked by a rising bulge in his crotch that Isolda seemed keen on encouraging at first. She would hear little outside of his audible, shallow breaths. "Hahh... hahh... huuhh..." He stared at her with a frightened, confused look, not knowing quite what to make of the awkward situation. Here, a naked woman had turned the tables on him in an instant, and now she was... pleasuring him? Teasing him? What was going on? Those questions lingered in his eyes, but he didn't dare speak.

The answers came soon enough when Isolda sultry display suddenly turned into a violent one, with her jamming the sharp end of the tool into the slaver's crotch. A visible stain of blood began to grow where she had stabbed him, and another loud cry of misery echoed throughout the building. To Ciran's and perhaps anyone who had overheard it, it was distressing, but for Isolda it may have been the exact opposite. As fun as they might have been for her to hear, the man wasn't holding back now in what was clearly an attempt to call for help to anyone who might listen outside. Isolda had to thwart his attempt with little delay, and by grabbing his throat she silenced him temporarily. Straightening her arm and sinking her body weight onto it would cause him to thrash wildly, for a bit longer than she might have liked, but it kept him quiet. A few tense moments later, and she slowly lifted her hand to find him silenced permanently.

She hadn't the time to find a great deal of remorse nor satisfaction from the kill, however, as Ciran was found backed into one counter, a look of terror and disbelief on his face. All of it was so... surreal. He had been exposed to dangerous types before, but an actual murder--two of them--had just taken place before his eyes.

It was his fortune that the remaining slaver that Isolda bashed was still groggy from the brutal slam he had taken earlier. The Deunic man, his face still mangled, could be seen on his hands and knees, searching for something--presumably the exit, given the general direction in which he crawled.

Catching a hint of Ciran's slightly salty seed as she touched down upon her cum-soaked breasts and sampled from them with her fingertip, Isolda was free to take her time with the final pursuit, as catching up with the grounded thug was not the most difficult of tasks. It took little effort for her to grab him by the hair or throat and slam him against the counter, back first this time. Fighting back on instincts alone, the man swung blindly at his attacker. His inherent wildness added a touch of unpredictability to his movements, and he clipped Isolda on her cheek. It wasn't enough to injure the battle-hardened swordswoman to any meaningful extent, however, perhaps only serving to ignite a retaliatory rage that motivated her to pummel the unfortunate fool until he was black and blue. Both of his eyes had swollen shut in short order, and any attempts to keep punching soon stopped after Isolda delivered enough blows to his body.

After the last slaver was judged thoroughly beaten by Isolda's standards, he wilted and fell to his knees, curling up into the fetal position. This left the wanderer free to address Ciran, who was indeed frozen thanks to it all. Even the firm slap she gave him did little. Only a more fearful attempt on her part, perhaps more than she would have liked to show him, would finally get him moving. His body appeared to operate automatically as he went to lock the door, then disappeared into the next room, making as little noise as possible.

This left Isolda alone with the groggy gangster for the time being. He looked at her, carrying a half-dazed expression as his mind worked frantically to articulate some sort of response--even more so after she hinted that he might suffer the same fate as his leader. "Qais," he blurted out. The look he gave her, as the other Deunic man did, was one halfway between terror and amazement. He gave a glance towards his comrades. 'Abon' and 'Marid' were dead. 'You're a lunatic! This is insane!' were the words that would follow--if only he had the nerve left to deliver them in such a situation. As the remaining drops of his courage had largely been beaten out of him, he would withhold such rude comments for the time being. For now, Isolda was free to take her time with him and ask any question she felt appropriate.

 

[Tassadar]

Re: Gangs of Havenport (Tassadar) GMed by Takimaru

Isolda paused as she was about to turn away, realizing that her tactic with Ciran hadn’t worked. He was still standing there paralyzed by the surge of emotions that had gripped him, and while she briefly considered just leaving him there, she knew she didn’t have the time to get all of the things that needed to happen if they were to get through this without any more severe hitches done. Not when she didn’t know where he kept things, at least. “Ciran,” she said softly, allowing a genuine hint of nervous tension to enter her voice. It wasn’t the violence that bothered her of course, and even the danger that had come to him during the brief skirmish hadn’t earned too much distress from her that she couldn’t handle it, but knowing how bad things could go from here if someone walked in or called a guard after the screaming had her quite genuinely nervous even if this was easily provable as an act of self-defense.

“Don’t do this now,” she said, her voice wavering with nerves that she would normally have kept well hidden from the dissemination of the tension built up during the skirmish, “I need you. I know that you’re scared, and you’re probably in shock, but you need to move now. If we don’t clean this up, things could get a whole lot worse. I’m going to try and take care of this so that you won’t suffer any more for it, but if you want that to be how this plays out you need to do exactly as I say, alright?” The nude wanderer waited for him to respond, keeping her gaze locked upon his so that their eyes met, and wouldn’t release him until she got some acknowledgement or found out resolutely that the locksmith was too deeply in shock to be of use to her at that time.

After the locksmith was on his way to help with the cleanup however he could in his present state, it was time for Isolda to deal with the last of their attackers. Once he was awake and speaking, the wanderer couldn’t help but smirk slightly at the implicit words his glances aside said. A fair number of hormones were playing through her system by that point, but as sadistic as she was the situation was allowing her to mitigate her lusts… Mostly. She was well aware that she had no way of slaking herself at that point, or at least not any way that she would actually use, and after taking in a breath she found herself relaxed enough that she could start cooling down and begin questioning her captive.

“Well then, Qais…. Answer my questions to my satisfaction, and you have a chance of leaving here alive. Leave me unsatisfied, and….” Isolda said coldly, glancing once at the leader of the trio who was currently busy bleeding and choking to death on Ciran’s floor and allowing her threat to go unsaid. Looking back to her captive, she started her question, asking each in turn and waiting for them to be answered before asking the next, occasionally asking branching questions on each if some inspiration for such came up.

“You and your gentlemen friends are from Deun, yes? I did assume a bit already, but you were planning on putting me into a slave pen, weren’t you? I imagine after enjoying me a bit…. But I digress, were you part of a larger outfit, or just a small group?”

Next, she asked; “How many friends do you have, hrm? And how many slaves? How well armed are you? Who leads you and how much of a fighter are they? And do you have any association with the Black Hepta?”

Her final line of questioning went; “Where precisely is your group located, and how many men would be present there now that you and your friends are dead? And how much did you pay Ciran for his services?”

After that and any follow up questions that his answers might have inspired were answered, Isolda would quite calmly grab the man by his chin and the back of his head and twist until his neck snapped, giving him a quick and clean death. By that point Ciran had likely returned, and even if he hadn’t fulfilled all of her demands in detail, so long as the front door was locked she would calmly grab him and sit him in a chair. “Sit. I need you to calm down while I look at that cut,” she would say quietly, hoping that he wouldn’t react aggressively to her efforts even though she suspected that he might. She had seen men who weren’t used to violence go into shock like this before, prompting them to react in an irrational and sometimes dangerous manner, and that she had been the one doing all of the killing in the event that had traumatized him would likely not do much for his trust in her. Isolda wasn’t exactly the best when it came to this sort of thing, but she had enough empathy for Ciran by then to be relatively patient and delicate with him if he started acting up. Assuming he would allow her to, Isolda would slowly move around behind him and examine the cut that he had been inflicted with while held as a hostage by the now dead bandit leader, hoping that it hadn’t nicked anything vital that would need more than her rudimentary skills to heal.

(Drop her buff.)