Hal Henderics

"It seems we have yet more individuals in our group Perhaps they will make up for that woman's malicious weakness." He approaches the magic user and their... maid? "You two, who are you, and what are you capable of." Deadlift states.

"It isn't a technique. My spirit energy is merely intense enough to force my body to grow in size when I do not hold back. The result of training." Deadlift comments simply.

At the loud bang, Deadlift looks over lazily, a frown working it's way onto his face. "Then I suppose you have found something to serve as a worthwhile replacement for Hirata's work? I'd hate to see her potential held back by someone else's interference." Deadlift claims, disappointment, but not surprised.

"Hirata wanted me to leave one alive. She claims she can make them stronger, and I'm intrigued to see that in action." Deadlift explains, as he emits energy into his bracer in an attempt to do something to it. "They're too weak right now to entertain a child, much less me."

"Ok, Hirata. Do what you will with this nasty thing." Deadlift claims, leaving it pinned to the ground as he begins powering down. His muscles deflate, and his bones shrink with a few wet pops. He opts to spend his free time doing something to his Armored Gauntlet, his blue energy surrounding it and wriggling like an angry creature.

Deadlift finishes this pitiful creature with his Reserve sword, dealing 1d6+23 Damage. He performs a Nonlethal Takedown.

Deadlift is unbothered by the wet snap of his limbs breaking under the clubbing, he's had worse. He looks vaguely impressed with Hirata's construct, and vaguely disappointed in something else. "This is why I choose to hold back. Anything more is just..." Instead, he reels back, and with all his might, strikes the monster with his Reserve sword, dealing 1d6+23 Damage. He performs a Nonlethal Takedown, at Hirata's Request. "A waste."

"Yoko, you're rather close to your limit already. I'm moved by that kind of effort." "I can respect that, so... Consider this my real introduction." "An introduction which requires the most honorable thing I can offer. One Hundred Percent of my Power!" Deadlift stabs his sword into the ground and puts his hands to his sides, fists forward in a practiced pose as he widens his stance before taking a deep breath and screaming. "RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!" The air around his body suddenly becomes flooded with spirit energy, oceans of raw soul power exploding from him like an atom bomb as the air turns blue. His body, a black silhouette in the light of his own sun, begins deforming, bones snapping like gunshots in a duel between desperadoes. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!" His back arches forward as his spine extends to twice it's length in 3 sickening jolts, his limbs quickly following as they break and re-break over and over, regenerating into his fully powered form. His shirt is instantly obliterated by swelling muscle, revealing a crater of scar tissue in his chest which is only brought into stark relief as his ribs stretch past his muscles, like an anemic patient of some horrid disease, muscle underneath and wrapped around it ballooning outward. Like a mushroom cloud, his emissions finally reach their fever pitch, crashing upwards off of him and into the ceiling as it pushes the very air back, before dissipating and leaving a monster behind, wreathed in spirit energy. Standing at over 16 Feet Tall, Deadlift takes a step in front of Yoko, like a statue of some famous martial artist, made entirely of Clay and Bone under pale bronze, and picks up his sword. Deadlift Equips Monster Suit, and activates Strength Absolute, bringing his strength from (5+3=8) 8 to ((8+2=10)+125%=23) 23. (Note that the Downside of Reserve Sword has been removed, negating the strength lost from it's effect, while retaining the benefits of having docked 3 Strength.)

Deadlift attempts once more to strike with his Reserve Sword, dealing 8+1d6 Damage to M1-Mutant 3

"Ahh, here we are." Deadlift uses the Reserve Sword's Effect to dock his strength by 3, reducing it from (8+3=11) to (5+3=8) Deadlift strikes clumsily with his Reserve Sword, dealing 8+1d6 Damage

"Heh heh heh-" Deadlift gets some mirth, and then a great deal more. "BAH HAH HAH HAH!" He laughs helplessly. "Well, I admit, you make a compelling argument!" "I may not want to act as you do, but I respect your bloodlust deeply." "In that case, I have only one piece of advice, nearly every opponent you face will not fight you at their full strength, even as you are killing them. It may benefit even your crusade of bone crushing barbarism to find ways of forcing them to do so." Deadlift finishes with a nod. Even as his smile burns savagely, something in his gaze changes, as though the words he speaks come with context Yoko isn't quite aware of.

"Oh I definitely see your point. It makes sense from a straightforward perspective. But, if you wish to increase your power, you obviously must work against weights, against challenging trials. When I kill a man using only my pinkie finger, Is that not at least somewhat challenging? It's a matter of Will, and Discipline. Even a brute like me understands intimately what sharpening your control allows you to do." "And when you do taunt them, you may find your opponents dragging out extra strength as they grow desperate, desperate and afraid. It might seem cruel and unusual, but such showmanship demonstrates an intimate understanding of combat. That can inspire more fear than power so intense that it escapes the understanding of lesser beings." He pauses. "I like to pretend that I use a sword." Deadlift claims, pulling a blunted straight saber from his belt loop. "When I could kill any man alive with one blow of my powered up arm, finding amusements and challenge in combat requires creativity."

Gozer predicts that Lilya will be attacked by Greater Lahmu A with Royal Guard, Meanwhile, Dackly uses Starlight Spear on Greater Lahmu A, obligating it to use a 1d6+Stat Starlight Spear for at least 3 turns!

Grant fires his Roulette Pistol at Gilgamesh, dealing 6d4+12 Damage, if he gets a 6 on a 1d6!

"Tell that to Merlin and their acid burns." "I don't mind some red, but toxins are hardly ever enjoyable." He says with a small grimace. "If you're really so bored with combat, perhaps you should consider holding back against weaker opponents. I rarely deign to use my full strength against my enemies. It keeps things interesting." Deadlift says.

"That should be sufficient, yes? I expect to see something impressive, robot-woman." Deadlift says as he tears the wall panel entirely off, using the piece of steel scrap like paper as he crumples it over his left arm, and draws his sword. "I don't particularly enjoy the idea of getting my hands dirty, speaking literally." He explains, as he walks down the hall with the orange pipes.

Deadlift instead peels back the walls the doors slid into, to reveal the succulent machinery within. "I suspect you'll find something here more valuable than shredded door."

"Simple, Yoko. Where we aren't wanted." Deadlift says, examining both sliding doors for some sort of indicator of their security level, or where they lead. If one of them seems more secure than the other, he takes the opportunity to open it, very enthusiastically, in fact, by digging his fingers into the door, and pulling it out of it's hinges.

"A Pass, eh?" Deadlift uses a powerful uppercut, overextending it such that Yoko is flung into the pile of cardboard boxes behind him as he essentially flings his arm over his shoulder.

As they approach, Deadlift reels his fist back, throwing a clearly telegraphed punch as he simply takes their hits head on. Finally, after what must seem like ages to Yoko's trained eyes, Deadlift throws his punch, a wide haymaker that their agility would easily put them out of the way of. What is less expected, is the sheer force of their blow driving all the air near it into a frenzy, extending what is surely a killer blow into what is additionally a creator of dangerous tailwinds. His lack of skill is as clear as polished glass on a bright day, but no lethality is lost in their sloppy execution. "And you are quite slippery." He says, small bruises already forming from the consequences Deadlift has taken responsibility for, in not defending. His smile, However, has not changed in the slightest.

"What kindhearted strangers I seem to meet. I am Deadlift, a Dark Tournament Veteran." He says as Yoko flies towards him. Deadlift rears back his head and performs a headbutt, a savage grin on his face.

After crashing to the ground like a steel lock hurled at a tinfoil floor, Deadlift slowly stands up, and after looking around the room, walks over to the door, beginning to slowly drill his finger into it, in order to try and make a peephole. (Empty Loadout- 18 Strength used.)

"I don't take responsibilities for how fragile objects are. There exist techniques for strengthening objects with Spirit Energy, but I do not know them." Deadlift admits.

Deadlift's small smile turns incredibly awkward, like that of a samurai making small talk with his mortal foe. After a moment, he coughs, disengaging from that line of conversation. "That... May not be appropriate." "Anyway, I expect you to tell me just what is valuable, if you expect me to help you retrieve it." He says to her.

"I suppose building strength takes time, even if you are building it." Deadlift intones with some humor.