Nor Muscle or Boss were given time to react, as glass shards embedded themselves on the big man's face. Pain tolerance didn't help him whatsoever with the temporary blindness, throwing fists on the air but connecting with nothing.
"Fighting dirty, Cat?!" The 'Boss' yelled, a hand reaching out to grasp on the nearest stool to use as a blunt weapon. With Muscle taking some low blow out of a sudden, the man acted quick enough to fight back against his own cowardice in an attempt to stop Harper on her tracks.
Fiora stepped forth, hands stopping the stool before it was nowhere near the tigress, pulling it off his hands and swinging it straight to Boss's face, shattering with an audible, pleasant crack that followed the man's groans as he was knocked off his feet, splinters stuck over his cheek.
The sudden snap and the harrowed cries never heard out of Muscle's mouth had Bob shivering on his boots as his smuggish confidence turned into fear the moment Harper brutalized Muscle and sent a loud enough message with actions and words alike. The whole tavern had eyes on the woman now after the floor itself shook a little, and with Muscle now with his back buried on wooden boards. Enough mouths were left agape, the wisest of the customers keeping quiet.
HEY! You break it you pay for it, miss! Same goes to you all!
Save for the bartender, who was visibly annoyed for entirely different reasons, her tone commanding, if only neutral in regards to which side to pick. A veteran on these situations for how often they had gotten lately, she already could notice the eyes of some of her patreons.
They weren't the wisest bunch, and it wasn't just Bob's stumbling cries what set them into action, but the prospect of a fisticuffs with someone that strong- They weren't thinking clearly, to say the least.
"ALL OF US, CAT!" One of them replied to Harper, as the man set himself in motion, followed by five more that rushed themselves off their tables. A chorus smelling with booze called for blood, turning this drink club into a fight club.
Fiora had expected this much out of Harper, given how well she handled herself against things way above anything this tavern could bring over. It was the self control what stood out the most to the greenette: The beastfolk could have killed that man fair and square, but knew better than to do so here. No one would win from that eitherway.
Still, her mind couldn't bother with compliments, not now that a full brawl had started and people were after the tigress. Picking up her own table, Fiora kicked it straight towards the group of five, forcing them all to come to a halt and for them to stumble.
"He really pushed the wrong buttons, huh?" She commented, glancing over from Muscle back to Harper, taking note of exactly what word not use to address the tiger.
Right as Fiora went straight after the nearest pot belly, pushing the man aside once she felt herself overtaken by numbers and one stray hook to the jaw that made her think twice about messing around against so many targets, wincing in surprise to just how hard that felt. They were all at least half the size of Muscle, and still managed to pull a punch that hard..?
"Bob, do something you imbecile!" The boss shouted once he was running out of options, picking up an empty glass bottle from over the counter to throw at Harper, followed up by another, and another, at least until the Bartender could get her hands on the idiot to throw him off from behind the counter. A lot of liquid gone to waste along with each of these that shattered.
"I'm not getting close to that freak!" Bob retaliated, stepping backwards to try and keep as much distance with Harper as he could.
"We'll split up the costs, sounds good?" Fiora called out for her partner-in-brawl, ducking for a moment to let one of them miss entirely, dropping him down over a table once she straightened herself and let momentum do the job for her.
❰ 99 / 300 ❱
The main trashtalker of the group. He is constantly using objects he finds to attack the players every cycle, dealing a 4d20 to a random player that can be halved with a DC 50 Reflex Save. He deals 20 Damage to the Inn every cycle.
At 0 SP, becomes vulnerable.
❰ 0 / 800 ❱
Mr Muscle pummels his target throughfully via picking between 2 different actions at random:
1: Muscle Smash - Rolls 8d20 damage, combining punches and excessive weight to beat up a target with reckless abandon.
2: CHARGEEE - Mr. Muscle charges at a target, causing 4d20 damage. The affected player must roll a DC 70 Fortitude to avoid being carried into a different part of the Inn (such as the kitchen or the bedrooms). When on a different part of the Inn, neither Mr Muscle nor the target can be reached by their allies unless either spends a bonus action to reposition.
At 0 SP, becomes vulnerable.
❰ 80 / 80 ❱
A bunch of pot-bellies and stick man shaped people that got stirred up by BOB, they deal 2d20 damage at random. Every extra Drunkard doubles the dice (4d20, 8d20, and so on).
At SP 0, he becomes Vulnerable.
❰ 300 / 300 ❱
Bob is frail, but cunning. Instead of attacking the players directly, Bob instead instigates the nearby brickheads through coin or other sly methods to get them to aggro towards the players. As long as Bob lives, every cycle will spawn a Drunkard (Several, narratively.) with 80 HP that randomly attacks a player for 2d20 damage.
At SP 0, he becomes Vulnerable.
❰ 357 / 500 ❱
The Inn is a representation of the environment you are at. Players can, as a Free Action, roll a flat 1d100 to deal the rolled amount to the target of their action as SP Damage, via utilizing the environment (smashing chairs, pushing them off the rails, throwing tables at them, tackling them against a pillar, etc). The Inn receives the same amount as HP Damage.
Enemy Actions
'Boss' attacks
@Harper for a total of
61 Damage (Vulnerable & Damage Mitigation taken in account). Roll a
DC 50 Reflex Save to halve the damage.
Drunkard (x1) Spawns and deals
12 Damage to
@Fiora Di Angelo
