[Open Class] Critters and Contracts [Brenley]

[Smerdle]

Yes, I am. I am. I am. I am, the fog boil repeated incessantly, slashing back at Brenley as the reaper struck it first. The fog parted where it had been hit, revealing a bright white light instead of more swirling darkness.

HP: 30/40
Damage: 7
Boss HP: 30/50  

[Smerdle]

When he had first realized he had killed Pachua, Bren had felt helpless, desperate. Now he was just growing slowly angry, much as he had when facing Shun. It was a dangerous emotion, one that he'd only really felt a handful of times in his life, and in each of those times, it had spurred him to destruction. He lashed out with a shout, slicing the fog again.

HP: 25/40
Damage: 10
Boss HP: 20/50  

[Smerdle]

He continued to hack at the fog, conscious somewhere quite deep down of the fact that he was doing so in a very shiny dress. It was surprisingly comfortable, if a little short. And the bow... It would have been better anywhere else. In fact...

Brenley tore at the ostentatious fabric at his chest, flinging the bow into the blackness in front of him.

HP: 20/40
Damage: 6
Boss HP: 14/50  

[Smerdle]

Even though this endeavor was proving to be easier than his first venture into the vortex had been, it was still tiring. Brenley's wide, angry strikes grew less wide, and he countered with more glares than swipes of his pliers. It was probably a good thing that the mist was losing its fighting spirit as well, growing stagnant and still. The fight was very nearly over.

HP: 15/40
Damage: 7
Boss HP: 7/50  

[Smerdle]

The fog creature that was not Pachua stared at Brenley with distaste, its voice low in his mind. It whispered of traitors and killers, liars, fools and opportunists, and he knew that he was all of those things and more.

But could he live with that?

He raised his hands, silently offering his pliers to the boil as one final act of supplication, and they began to shift, shrinking and separating to become his katar. They were recognizable enough—thin, weak blades, shimmering gold and blue ornamental grips—but as they solidified, Bren saw that they had changed. The blades might have been thin, but they now possessed a heft that made them a surprising threat. The grips and guards were ornate but functional, suggesting a certainty of the wielder's power that made stealth unnecessary. Brenley swallowed. Weapons to grow into, then. He pushed them snugly around his knuckles, marveling at how well they now seemed to fit, then, without hesitation, he flung himself forward, plunging both blades into Pachua's chest. The fog thinned, and Brenley tumbled to the ground in a heap, feeling something small and firm crack beneath him.

He exhaled a shaky breath moments before he fell unconscious. It seemed he could live with himself rather well after all.

HP: 10/40
Damage: 7
Boss HP: explodo/50