Mentions:

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Arton had narrowly skirted around Eliane's mention of their homeland that morning, finding the truth harder to speak then he realized.

He spent much of the trip towards Osprey taking in the sights alongside Neve, idly chatting about particular scenery or thoughts that popped in their heads. There came a point when the Izayoi's expressions told him without a word that they were drawing closer to the border and by extension Valheimian held territory. The checkpoint was his first insight into the occupation. If this was how oppressive a simple checkpoint was....he couldn't fathom what life what like under their heel.

Arton had started to say something before he bit his tongue and simply nodded in reply. He could only hope that their luck in remaining unnoticed would continue.

A tightness gripped his chest as they reached the outskirts of the village. This was where it happened. Where Izayoi's suicidal vendetta began after Valheim took everything. The sight brought a visceral understanding to her history. It all proved distracting as he barely noticed the Valheimian soldiers and definitely not fast enough to prevent Izayoi from charging ahead if that was even possible. A spark of the fury that possessed the samurai drifted into him and so he followed suit after Eliane

"Don't worry, I got you covered!" He said with fierce determination, taking up position just behind them.

One of the foot-soldiers that passed by them was immediately met with Arton's blade, which bounced off the soldier's shield. His opponent tried a slice of his open but Arton managed to side-step. He brought his sword slightly back and, with a movement that crudely mimicked Izayoi's form, sliced through the offending arm.

---

The march up to Osprey was a quiet one- at least from Galahad's perspective. To be fair, none of them were much in the way of conversationalists, but furthermore Galahad had a bit more on his mind than usual. He was glad to let Izayoi guide them for the time being, let him have the time to get his head on straight, given the facts of the previous night. He wasn't expecting the samurai to take them to her old home- she seemed like the private sort, so he would've thought that she might've kept that personal knowledge. Though that being said, most of them trended towards rational anyway- and a familiar place in an otherwise hostile countryside was as good as any for safe camp.

Or so they thought, anyway. The small town itself was apparently already occupied- by Valheim, unsurprisingly. They'd spent too much time trying to get themselves down here to turn around and find some place better to camp with what little light there was left. Galahad also knew that stealth was something hardly worth suggesting- subtle wasn't exactly their strong suit. "Here we go." Galahad sighed as he watched Izayoi charge into the fray, followed shortly after by Éliane, Arton not far behind to provide cover. Straightening his neck, Galahad slowly pulled his halberd from his beast's side as he dismounted, pausing for a brief second before leaping into the air. Steel glinted in the fading sunlight, a shadow against the setting sun as he hung in the air for a moment. He had a better vantage from up here- a small group of melee fighters were approaching the party, while a group of gunners and a mage were setting up to hit the party from their flank.

"Over here! Set up here and- Augh!" the small formation of gunners scattered as an oversized halberd fell upon their mage, piercing through armor and pinning the man to the ground as its bulk- alongside that of a dragoon hurtling to the ground. Stray shots were fired as the gunners scattered and split, their flanking maneuver set back as they attempted to regroup. A richochet pinged off Galahad's armor before he leapt back into the air- not intending on sticking around to find out how Eldren steel fared against Valheim lead.

Once again in the air, from his vantage Galahad spotted a pair of figures heading towards the party- the first one was obvious, one man, larger than the others, wielding a giant hammer or mace of some sort, in hulking armor stomping towards the party. The other hung back a bit, a crest in his helmet- an officer. Recognizing the priority target, Galahad whistled and threw a bolt of lightning towards the man, the electricity more or less a glowing beacon in the fading light of the coming dusk, the crackle and burst of blue light silhouetting the crest for his party to see.

Tile and wood cracked and groaned beneath his feet as the dragoon set down on a roof, halberd in hand. He took a step back as enemy bullets began to strike at his position. "I'll take care of their ranged fighters!" Galahad barked as he jumped yet again, the force sending tile and splinters scattering from the roof.

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As the sounds of battle echoed throughout the small town, the door to Izayoi's door slammed open from the inside which slightly cracked the exterior wall with its force. The armored and decorated figure that emerged from the house ducked slightly to avoid hitting their head against the top of the doorframe "Fall in on me!" Their stern voice was somewhat distorted, whether through their helmet or some kind of magic. The Valheimian soldiers not currently engaged with Team Kirin quickly regrouped around the regal-looking figure, taking up a much more organized formation.

A large shield matching their armor was strapped to their right arm, a sword sheathed on the same side, and dual pistols completed the officer's armaments. Their attention seemed to immediately lock on to Izayoi "I am suprised you can still show your face around here, Izayoi of the Wild Wind. It is time to join the rest of your family." The tall figure boasted, raising a hand which triggered the remaining gunners to take aim and ready for a volley while their frontline warriors took up a defensive position around their leaders and the gunners. Her hand lowered quickly and a crackle of gunfire rippled across the line towards Team Kirin.

Once more, blood and fire desecrated the village of Atsu. Team Kirin met the first wave of Valheimians head-on, and came out with the advantage. Their frontline fighters faltered before Eliane and Arton's swordplay, and Galahad's leap sent their riflemen into disarray. For her part, Izayoi was stuck in deep, her blade tearing through a trio of soldiers trying desperately to hold the enraged mystel back.

Before their lines could lose all cohesion, however, the black-clad soldiers rallied around the cry of their captain, doing as she'd commanded and regrouping on her order. Izayoi scowled as the gunners fired, dashing behind the wall of another intact house to wait out the shots before reemerging, her glower intensifying as she'd realized where the newfound captain had come out of.

"You desecrate the doorstep of my home with your touch." At this point, her anger had spiked to the point where she wasn't even screaming anymore, but speaking slowly with barely-contained rage. She didn't even register that the woman had gotten her title wrong.

"You know everything. How? Did you give the order six months ago?" One of the soldiers remaining from the initial wave tried to flank her from the side, but an offhand swing of Izayoi's blade tore through his chest, leaving him crumpled on the ground. The sword's wielder never took her gaze off of Reisa, veins bulging on her forehead.

All the while, the battle continued. Reisa's swordsmen raised shields and took up defensive positions in front of the reloading gunners as the lieutenant with the crested helmet narrowly sidestepped Galahad's lighting. He raised a hand in response, ice shards forming around him and firing...towards Eliane and Arton. However they dealt with the bullets, they would find ice crashing down on them almost immediately after.

As if to cover his immediate superior, the juggernaut with the mace charged forward, intent on crashing through the house that Galahad stood atop of in order to force him to move or fall.

---

Galahad barely had the time to catch his footing before he felt the house beneath him start to crumple. He attempted to jump and cursed as he found himself falling rather than rising as the brute crashed through the building. There was a brief bit of chaos as Galahad found himself tumbling through the ceiling, diving to the side to dodge both oncoming body and a massive swinging mace whizzing past where his head was. Galahad grunted as he felt an armored arm impact onto his chestplate at some point during the chaotic struggle, as an arm grabbed his form and quite literally threw him out of the house.

He barely had time to collect himself and bring his halberd up as a heavy mace came crashing down on him, the haft of his halberd catching the rod of the juggernaut's weapon before the flanged mace head could cave his skull in. He felt his feet push an inch or two into the dirt from the impact as he shifted his weapon and redirected the mace to come crashing down beside him instead, getting headbutted in the face for his trouble. Luckily they were both wearing helmets as Galahad to a quick hop backwards to gain some space. Finding himself in a duel with the armored juggernaut wasn't an ideal situation, but his hefty halberd was capable of dealing with heavy armor- at least moreso than the relatively lighter weapons of his comrades. The others would have to deal with the rangers on their own then, as Galahad faced off with the larger armored man, his grip on his weapon shifting as the Juggernaut took another few hulking steps forward.

Galahad couldn't hope to overpower this man- the size and weight of his weapon were just too great, but Galahad was considerably faster as he sidestepped another downward swing of the mace, stepping within the weapon's reach as he shifted his reversed his foregrip on his halberd, choking up near the axe's head as he drove the heavy blade down against the inside of the juggernaut's elbow, feeling the steel sink into the lighter armor and catch flesh. Wrenching the weapon upwards, he tried to drive the spike on the backside of his halberd into the armored skull of the juggernaut but only managed to puncture the skin of the helmet before the Juggernaut threw him off.

Jumping back a quick few steps, Galahad gave the juggernaut little time to recover, taking the small opening to finally get himself back into the air. Leaping into the sky, Galahad waited until he reached the crest of his jump before he threw his halberd down at the juggernaut, air whipping around in a micro-sonic boom as the halberd fell from the sky and towards the Juggernaut, Galahad following its wake behind the weapon.

---

They had only been in a few skirmishes together now, but Éliane was satisfied at the battle cohesion their little party shared so far. Her flank was covered by Arton and Galahad, so she wouldn’t eat a surprise knife to her back, which was all that she needed, really. That allowed her to go through her usual battle ritual of cleaving and blasting her way through her enemies! What wonderful teammates she had, actually. At least these were dying in surprise ambushes.

Éliane caught the exchange between Ranbu and the enemy commander, and its nuances even, but she didn’t care overmuch. Instead, she merely emptied her entire load of bullets on the regal-looking tall woman—if not to kill her, than to ruin that arrogant bearing of hers, but killing her would be just as good.

She didn’t have time to witness her results, though, as she was suddenly forced to dodge the fusillade of elementally infused bullets that were sent her way. With a yelp, she dodge out of the way with a dramatic roll, immediately wishing that she hadn’t unloaded the six-shooter in her gunblade at a single target. Luckily, there was cover nearby in the form of a low stone wall, and slipping behind it, she reloaded and began to return fire even as she closed the distance once more in typical fashion to run more Valheimans through.

Mentions:@Psyker Landshark

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"I am pleased you still consider it your home. It seems leaving it intact was a sound investment." Satisfaction lined her words and there was not doubt there was a smirk hidden under her metal visage. The assault from her troops continued amidst their conversation as she gave out orders with precise hands movements.

Reisa didn't make a move after hearing Izayoi's question, pacing a few steps before responding "It is difficult to trust others to get the job done, isn't that right?" She turned to the lieutenant and clearly said something to them before she raised a finger in the air and made a circular motion. The frontline of the Valheimians began to gradually spread out to cut off the flanks of Team Kirin.

Eliane's salvo whizzed towards Reisa who stepped out of the way of the first two shots, letting the bullets fly past her right then left side. Her shield was brought up in a flash of movement and the rest of barrage was deflected off its surface. Her attention shifted towards Eliane as if taking notice of her for the first time and with a swift order a pair of sharpshooters shifted position and began to engage the Skaellan markswoman.

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The battle at the King's palace had been a chaotic endeavor that was spread out across the entire compound but this was Arton's first time facing an organized and coordinated force. There was only so much that training could prepare for. Bullets whizzed all around him as he closed the distance, footmen coming at him again and again. Swords slammed into the his thick armor, unable to pierce but hard enough to leave a bruise later. Arton was barely holing his position and seemed to be trading blows more than he was delivering them. The hard truth was that he was the weak link in their party's frontline fighters...and the captain was prepared to exploit it.

Arton's blade cut down his latest attacker, pulling it loose just in time to raise his shield to stop the volley of gunfire...most of it. A single bullet punctured his thigh and at first he hadn't even realized it had happened. He tried to push off the leg but it just wouldn't give him the power he needed. Ice shards peppered Arton's armor, the shield unable to cover him completely from the attack. The blast of ice knocked him off his already weakened leg, rolling a couple times until he ended on his stomach. Blood oozed from his right leg and dripped from his nose but he was not on the ground for long. Arton propped himself up and threw him behind cover close to Eliane just as another volley struck his previous position.

Reisa answered, and Izayoi saw red. It was her. The architect of all her suffering. The physical representation of everything wrong with the Valheimian occupiers. The person she was going to kill. A wordless, furious scream left her lips, and she charged.

A hail of gunfire met her, Reisa's soldiers having evidently been more than prepared for the response. Bullets flew, and even the benefit of a Haste spell didn't allow Izayoi to evade all of them, one cutting her cheek and another grazing her left shoulder. She glowered, abandoning her frontal charge to take cover next to Eliane and Arton.

"She planned for us." Izayoi snarled as a stray bullet whizzed over her head. "By Himstus, by Imir, by the Mother, I will kill her!" Even in the throes of her rage, years of tactical indoctrination and war led her to consider the situation at hand as best she could. Arton was downed and Eliane was taking up his slack. They were being surrounded and Galahad was cut off. The situation wasn't insurmountable, but any way out could likely result in the death of at least one Kirin. If it was to be Izayoi, then she would at least take that wench with her.

A vial of potion was taken out of her sash, and she rolled it over towards Arton before shouting to him and Eliane.

"On my mark! I will break their line! Do not fail to take advantage of it!"

She ran a hand over her blade, coating it in wind magics before leaping up out of cover and slashing, a shockwave of wind crashing into the first line of gunners, a half-dozen wide. They screamed and fell, some diving out of the way while others were left with wicked gouges rent into their armor, flesh, and bones.

Not even the knowledge that she could have once cut through three such lines at once with a single blow slowed Izayoi as she landed and resumed her mad dash towards the remaining gunners, and past them, Reisa.

"Naught but the flames of hell await you, scum!"

___

Galahad's jump and throw planted his halberd straight through the Juggernaut's helmet and subsequently, his skull. Even as he landed and the titan of a man fell, a magical hailstorm began to assail him, shards of ice crashing down as their conjurer looked on from a distance. It seemed he'd planned for his comrade's defeat.

An entire line of frontline fighters diverged from the main battle and rushed Galahad as well, intent on finishing him should their lieutenant's attempt fail.

___

As battle rang through Atsu, the sound could be heard from afar. Not a single person within the ruined villages vicinity would fail to hear its din, attracting attention from those who would otherwise be unengaged...

Travelling overland from Costa del Sol... what had she been thinking? Actually, she had probably been thinking "well, if my brother did it then that must mean I could and should do it as well," but it was something Miina had really come to regret. As nice as these new clothes were, she'd ended up changing back for half the journey until the climate (and surroundings) were more accommodating to so many layers and frills. Not just because it was more comfortable to dress familiarly when nobody was around to judge...

Still, the journey had been challenging. In hindsight, starting from a trading port should have spelled it out: most trade with Osprey was (had been?) by sea. The land routes weren't the best and Miina had meandered her way to the Edreni border in trying to stick to roads most of the time. The rest was down to plain getting lost.

It was all only made worse by the state of anything near the border. Well... places on this side were inhabited, just worse for wear. She stuck out like a sore thumb: clean, in fine clothing, and well-fed. If she were anyone else, an air of confidence, too. Miina had offered healing to begin with, then taken to avoiding settlements whenever possible. A decision only reinforced by the increasing presence of black-clad soldiery as she passed; even Miina had heard enough to avoid these invaders. No chance was she risking the main pass in this situation...

Unfortunately, this mountain route that she had picked wasn't as quiet as Miina had hoped; the clamour of battle rang out ahead and there was only one choice: wait or investigate. Waiting would mean hoping the victor was friendly or didn't come back this way, since her outfit didn't lend itself to hiding. That... too many unknowns was scary. Miina was curious, too.

So she crept forward, looking down towards the abandoned village and the battle therein.

Sure enough, one side was the invading soldiers. The other... was this just a band if travellers? Their attire wasn't consistent at all. Another Mystrel from Osprey, it seemed, stood out the most. Maybe not even travellers, then; this woman could be defending her home. She should help. Miina wanted to help. But how? These were soldiers and experienced looking warriors and she... wasn't.

Then—

Drop her pack, draw her sword, and run. Good, he was behind cover, that made it easier and—

"Dignified" was the furthest thing from Miina's scramble down into the village, the red cat barely remaining upright at times before dropping into cover with a flurry of sleeves and coat, sword in her left hand carefully held low to avoid offence. Not that she was too focused on that, zeroing in on Arton's injury.

"L-l-l-l– I c-can heal‚ I'll help," the newcomer explained–so much as the white-gold glow around her right hand didn't.

"Go, live!"

Even to this very day, the last words of her mother still rang in her mind, as vividly as when she heard it for the first and last time. A boon that she paid for with her life, a promise that Eve would keep for as long as she could. Truly, how could she even consider otherwise? Knowing the world was so full of evil; from vicious creatures hellbent on destroying all that was good to deluded tyrants who thought the whole world should bow to them. Faced with threats from both monsters and men alike, then abandoned by the Divine Mother herself, it was no wonder the people grew agitated and paranoid, and in fearing for the safety of their loved ones, they sought something, anything to blame for their misfortunes, to provide them with some semblance of justice.

Her kind - the magi - took the brunt of their hate, but she wouldn't - couldn't - blame them for fear begets irrationality, fear fosters hate. Only in peace could love and compassion triumph, and both the blight and the empire must be purged before the world can know true peace.

Indeed, it must be fate that brought her here to the nation of Osprey, a once-mighty empire subjugated by the very same people who sought to use her as a weapon. Though Eve loved her mother with everything she had, even she had to admit that the good doctor's words regarding her becoming a hero for Valheim were misguided at best and deceptive at worst. For how could she become a hero by serving warmongers and mass murderers?

What was originally a small detour to avoid the Valheimr border checkpoint via a mountain pass escalated into something more as Eve heard the unmistakable cacophony of battle echoing through the mountains, sounds she was quite familiar with. A leisurely hike turned into a full blown sprint as the Eidolon Chimera arrived at the outskirts of a settlement, overlooking a not-so-abandoned village as a group of... adventurers(?) clashed with soldiers clad in distinctive metallic black armor. "...!" It only took a single look at one of the former - a Sollan Swordsman with cropped dark hair - bleeding out from his leg and face to instill unbridled rage burning within the dragon's heart.

Moving without delay, the Pseudo-Eidolon made her way closer to the battleground, a clear goal in mind. She ended up arriving closest to where an armored juggernaut laid slain with a massive halberd impaled through his skull. "..." Then the wielder of said halberd - one of those infamous dragoons - landed to recover his weapon before he's harassed by even more of those imperial rats. Well, not if she could help it!

"...fuh." Exhaling softly, the horned kuromadoushi reached out with her right hand as arcane power coalesced a few inches from her opened palm, sparks of bright yellow and swirls of reddish orange joining together as Eve whispered under her breath, "Thunraga..." before an eruption of elemental destruction surged forth from her, throwing her hood back due to the recoil.

For their part, the frontline fighters rushing Galahad would suddenly find themselves being assaulted by what appeared to be a massive inferno charged with lethal electricity crashing onto them, cooking and shocking them at the same time as their armor did little to protect them. They couldn't even scream in agony as their jaws locked shut from the lightning coursing through their charred flesh.

In one fell swoop, the squad that was supposed to harass Galahad was no more, leaving him unhindered to make his next move, well, less hindered, he still had the conjurer to worry about.

---

@HereComesTheSnow@Psyker Landshark

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The hovel wasn't terrible, as far as hovels went. The walls were still standing, though a little scorched. The roof had even managed to avoid caving in. The door was missing, and alongside the way the timbers and covers making the walls of the house were shrunk and punctured beneath their lattices, meant that it was left somewhat open to the elements—but that also meant that it was much harder to be taken surprise of while residing in it. A factor that had proven quite influential in choosing it as a temporary residence rather than any of the other ruined buildings in the village; keeping the rain off his head, sturdy enough not to worry about it falling on him, and still open enough that he could keep his ears open made it leagues better than any other choice.

Of course, it helped that it was large enough to fit two.

"Kom, kom," he urged, peering through the latticed wall at the retreating backs of the troops as they hurried away from the ruined home. Behind him, he could hear his current travelling partner hoisting himself back up to the ground floor. Lucky for them, the house had a surprise trap-door cellar; neither had expected, after stopping over in the village, that a division of Valheimr troops would decide to occupy and search it. But with the cellar and some clever rearranging of the mess over its entrance, they'd been able to hide while the hovel was searched. A search that had just ended moments before the taller of the pair, crouched near the open exit, sprung up as quietly as possible to observe the goings-on—and, if necessary, plan an escape.

Shameful, Esben. I haven't even gotten around to warning him that I may need him to die for me. He's likely to view it as a betrayal if I have to use him as bait.

And yet—

Clashing blades. Voices raised, some in anger, some in surprise. Issuing commands. The unmistakable crack of gunfire. His eyes narrowed. "We may be able to get out of this—"

His eyes widened again as two voices made themselves clearly heard over the din, at the name one of them called out, their voice unmistakably mocking even with the sound of combat. "Ranbu no Izayoi, here? Not alone. This could be..." He turned, catching sight of a flash of red moving in off to one side, before disappearing from his view, well past the occupying soldiers. Off to another side, a small bundle of black and grey rushing in, one hand stretching out already.

"Follow close and watch my back, Rudolf!" he commanded. "This is an opportunity we can't pass up." Hopefully the younger wanderer wouldn't question his specific word choice. He seemed too potentially-useful to let him go thinking he could run off at any minute.

As the small black-and-grey clothed mage let loose with a powerful elemental blast, the tall man dove out from his cover—narrowly avoiding stray fire and debris that came flying towards the hovel he had just vacated from the blast and the dying men—rolling over his shoulder and coming up on his feet in a single smooth movement, his sword and his buckler already off his belt and in his hands. He rushed ahead to the rear of the Valheimr line, to a pair of gunners that had narrowly avoided a cleaving razor of wind sent their way. The first fell to a sharp blow to the back of his skull, cranium cracking and brain hemorrhaging as they met the rim of his buckler. The second twisted on one heel, raising his carbine to attack, only to open his own throat against the blade held out just for him to lacerate himself with.

The carbine was kicked up and out of his suddenly clammy hands, and Esben stepped along, the blood spraying past him against the wall of another ruined home. He clamped his left arm down against the blade of his sword to keep it held up, catching the carbine as it tried to fall back to the ground; holding it out with one hand he turned, another nearby gunner falling limply as a fired bullet tore his brainstem asunder. The carbine flew back, Esben releasing it to its own recoil, and taking his blade in hand again.

"Have your duel, samurai!" he called to Izayoi, with a small salute. "I'll keep these others off your back!"

"Huh—? Ranbu no Iza— Hey, hold on a sec!"

The fall had hardly been enough to scratch him, much less hurt, but he was really sore regardless. Damned gil on the floor ahead... If he'd not caught it glinting in a sunbeam through the broken rafter, he would have just sidestepped this stupid thing exactly the way Esben did, but instead, he'd been naive enough to think his luck was finally turning around—

"Esben!" No avail. The southerner was tall, blonde, and long gone already, sailing gleefully into the din of steel and shot they'd just been talking about sneaking out beneath. Beneath an agitated, furrowed brow, the younger lad clicked his tongue and hissed his frustrations at the retreating frame while he hoisted himself up fully and brushed away dust-covered cobwebs. "Dammit. Dammit!"

—Only to, from three different angles, be reminded that it could always nosedive. On the simplest count, literally, once the tarp strewn over that section of the dilapidated floor gave way to a twelve-foot void to the cellar below. No amount of the other man's rising-pitched queries in that lilting accent he put on (probably native, but a bit played up by Rudolf's guess) asking him if he was alright would assuage the embarrassment of falling for something like that after selling himself off as an experienced martial artist, dedicated to the craft of the blade. He wanted to curl up and die, honestly. Being reassured that it was "good thinking, just in time" when the Valheimr rolled in was just icing on the cake, even if Esben's heart was in the right place.

The second, as things stood, was Esben himself. They'd been travelling for a few days, so he'd already gotten some inklings that the big guy wasn't all quite what he seemed— well, no. Not fair, saying that. What kind of spy would be that up front about it? It was his fault for falling for it, but regardless, the man just seemed personable, maybe a bit goofy. Hard to take those claims at face value, but... He should have paid more attention to what he'd seen. The man had always registered as too good a mover for a guy backpacking across nations, even war-torn ones. His steps were quiet, swift, considered. Even if he didn't buy a "covert intelligence operative", he should have at least gone ahead and pinged him as a hunter— It'd have left him more emotionally prepared for these stone-cold executions! You could just turn that on this whole time, while were trading sleeping watches?! Scary! You're scary!

He put power into his legs, letting strength make up for some of that gulf in agility. Rudolf was a diligent trainee when it came to all manner of physical development, and even he could admit that he moved well compared to normal folk or even normal militias and town guards and so on. But once the Skaellan Skaeller had truly dropped the mask, Rudolf's eye for comparisons never lied— it would be a rare day he closed distance so quick and quiet as that. Instead, he'd have to make do with a surging charge into the disarray, the pair of swords at his hip drawn. Shorter one in his left, longer in the right, both of them at least able to cut, so an upgrade from the weight on his back. He was far from a whiz at dual-wielding, especially with swords of uneven length, but any port in a storm...

He crashed into a pile of the shieldbearers, pressing the advantage he and Esben had in appearing from the flank for all it was worth. Third. Mother crystal, the big one was third. Speaking of Storm, Dual-Wielding, and Scary People— the single-minded fury of one Ranbu no Izayoi, the Limbtaker in the flesh, surged past his back as his paired fangs bit deep into the far edge of those she scattered, checking their attemps to regroup and pincer her charge. He'd heard his share of stories of her killing intent, and to feel them vindicated made him doubly sure that she topped his prospective list of "People I'm praying I never meet in Osprey". He was hopeful he'd not look too much like anyone she might have familiarized herself with in wartime— for every story about the sensation of her presence on the battlefield, there were two of her effect. And with her so clearly fiercely protective of her home, if she caught the scent of and Edrenian veteran in his blood, face, or bearing...

He clicked his tongue and grimaced, shortsword knocking a thrust bayonet off-course and wrenching down to pierce the fusilier's throat. Another came from behind, bearing a shield, trying to bring it down on his head. He whirled, allowing the bleeding gunner to take blow and come loose from the blade, and dropped low. Temporarily blocked from the larger man's view as the corpse fell, Rudolf completed the spin, lashing out and letting his heel crash into the shielder's ankle from the side as it returned to stance. He was smaller, but had a hell of a solid base and the edge in strength.

The thunderbolt hew of his longsword caught the man's head as he bounced off the ground, having just enough time to grunt in surprise at his legs went flying. An impact somewhere behind his kidney gave a pinging and cracking report. His greatsword had bounced a bullet. Guess you aren't useless trash after all. Lovely. Etro, I'm gonna die if we don't do something about these gunners.

...No matter how you sliced it, this day had set a land speed record in going from Bad to Worse.

A shift in the wind brought the smell of singed flesh and passing storm to his nose, echoes of the men the grey-clad girl he'd caught in the corner of his eye had cooked. He felt his gut tie itself into a knot, and tried to focus on the more palatably acrid gunpowder instead.

He really wanted to go home...

@Psyker Landshark@The Otter@Izurich

Mentions:@Psyker Landshark

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Reisa's shoulders slightly slumped as Izayoi's charge fell short but noticeably the imposing Captain had yet to draw upon her blade. Her attention shifting from staring down the mad Mystrel, to her lieutenant, and then to the foot soldiers that were directly engaged. Every order that came from her lips or from a hand signal was almost immediately obeyed. This was not the chaotic surprise attack that had been launched on the castle. These were well-drilled soldiers that had utter confidence in their leader. Despite the Valheimians numerical advantage, they refrained from going for any decisive action. Comrades fell but with each minute the battle raged on, Reisa would remain fresh while her foes grew ever more exhausted.

She paced back and forth like a large savannah cat as Izayoi regrouped with Arton and Eliane. Reisa gave another order that was drowned out by the sound of gunfire and a portion of the line that separated Izayoi from Reisa diverged to assist the lieutenant. Her blade slid from its scabbard the moment that Izayoi evacuated from cover and began her assault, though her stance was casual and loose. The captain's attention quickly shifted to the reinforcements that entered the battle on Izayoi's behalf and a couple had managed to flank their position. Her gaze flicked around the battlefield as one by one her troops began to fall. The battle was lost.

"That...will have to wait." Her voice projected, venomous frustration clear. Her sword returned to its scabbard in one fluid motion and her other hand retrieved a faint, sky-blue crystal wrapped in gold leaf. Without a second more delay, Reisa held crystal towards the sky and with a sharp, electrical crack a bright ball of light emitted from the crystal. The light faded quickly and Reisa was nowhere to be seen, the ground lightly scorched where she had stood.

Mentions:@Psyker Landshark@Raineh Daze

---

This was the moment. The situation was quickly turning against them against this assailant. A pure butcher. Izayoi's suffering made manifest. He wasn't surprised at the pure, wild rage that burned in her throat when facing the one responsible for losing her family. Arton was certain he would show no mercy to the ones who took his family away from him. This was something they shared. It came as a shock as Izayoi delayed her revenge to duck behind cover next to them. The potion rolled into his hands and it was in that moment that Izayoi fully earned his admiration and trust.

"On your signal." He slightly struggled to say before lifting the flash to his lips and drank. The wounds scattered around his body began to seal and close, but it wasn't enough. Adrenaline had kept him unaware of the multitude of other injuries that he had sustained, the materia in his possession pushing him further than what most could handle.

His attention immediately shifted towards the red Mystrel that seemingly appeared out of nowhere and was, out of everything, running towards him. Tension briefly rose in his legs and arms but as she drew closer he understood she was here on their side. There were other voices that joined the fray, calling to Izayoi as she rushed towards the enemy commander. He desperately wanted to join her and Galahad in the assault, but the potion hadn't managed to fully heal the gunshot wound in his leg. Mixed between surprise and relief, Arton nodded towards the Mystrel knowing that he would only get in Izayoi's way in this state.

"Thank you." He uttered simply, grunting a little as he shifted so she could have better access to his leg where blood still trickled out. There was a certain amount of embarrassment and shame he felt as Eliane, Izayoi, and Galahad continued to fight while he sat here. The loud crack and bright light that followed captured his attention, though he couldn't see over the cover he was behind.

---

A blue-white streak of lightning caught the dragoon's weapon as it fell through the sky, the halberd itself briefly disappearing as the growing electricity enveloped it. Guided by Galahad's throw, the bolt of lightning homed in on the juggernaut, striking the bruiser with an overwhelming amount of energy, Galahad himself crashing down a moment later as earth, armor and flesh sundered from the impact. A deafening thunderclap followed in his wake as Galahad staggered and pulled himself out of the crater. Unfortunately, little time was given for him to recover, as almost immediately, Galahad felt himself being hit with a magical hailstorm, shards of ice cracking across his armor like arrows or bullets, more than one piercing through his armor and puncturing the skin below.

Turning to face the oncoming threat, Galahad found himself face to face with a column of infantry, seemingly set on holding him in place as the conjurer's storm slowly whittled him down. Even taking losses, it seemed Valheim were well trained and practiced in contingency plans. Luckily, Galahad wouldn't have worry about them for long- as an electrified firestorm swept through the Valheim ranks. Had Galahad not been in the middle of being pelted by magic, he might've taken stock of the mysterious mage that came to his aid- as well as the trio of adventurer types that seemed to have came out of the woodwork to help his party. Questions and confusion would have its time later, for now an enemy of my enemy would have to do- and Galahad was grateful for the assistance.

Rushing the conjurer, Galahad sprang and weaved past chunks of flying ice as the spellcaster attempted to hold him at bay. His spellcasting was efficient, well practiced, but measured and therefore slower than the dragoon. Diving over a spear sized icicle and rolling across the ground, Galahad converted the momentum into a throw of his halberd, the heavy weapon flying across the street and striking the conjurer's staff as he dodged out of the way. As the dragoon quickly closed the distance and retrieved his weapon, the valheim conjurer drew a dagger in an attempt at a final defense. As the conjurer lunged forward, Galahad batted the arm away with a flourish of his halberd, the razor edge of the heavy blade taking the unarmored spellcaster's wrist off in the process. Couching the weapon beneath his arm, Galahad stabbed forward with the spike at the butt of his weapon, piercing the conjurer before the weapon draw back and swung, the axe cleaving into his torso.

Finally with a moment of reprise, Galahad took a deep breath, as he took stock of the remaining battle. The Valheim forces were in disarray, the disappearance of their leader, and the loss of their lieutenants and any other member of significant seniority seemed to have left them without guidance, though their morale, while shaken seemed to hold strong enough that soldiers continued to fight hard even as they fell. The timely appearance of these new strangers seemed to have only sealed their fate, though apparently no one had told them. Though they lacked both leadership and magic support, Valheim still outnumbered them with infantry and fusiliers, what individuals remained reforming into ad-hoc groups to better defend themselves, beginning to make their way towards and cluster themselves around the last place their commander had been seen.

"One more push and their backs will break!" Galahad called out. He had to hand it to them, at least they had some discipline about them, even if Izayoi's wrath would inevitably wash over them. "Don't let them regroup!"

---

Éliane tsked, quickly knowing that her shots hadn’t found their mark by the clang of her shots against armor and the obvious fact that the enemy woman was being a smug bitch towards her Mystrel ally. Although she was still firing back, now having reloaded, she was increasingly coming under fire by the Valheimian contingent.

“Aw, shit!” She let out a yelp as she ducked down from her cover, a particularly nasty bullet coming close enough to ping off one of the metal ornaments on her shako cap and nearly knocked it off her head. Moments later, an entire volley of bullets hit the stone wall where she together with Arton and Izayoi had taken over, sending fragments of rough stone flying everywhere. She winced as a few particularly sharp fragments managed to cut into her arm. The situation was looking increasingly desperate, with this cohort being far more organized than what she’d encountered previously.

They needed a breakout, or they’d be surrounded and flanked. Izayoi was a second ahead of her, so Éliane deferred to her. “Understood!” she called back, checking her gear and righting her hat. At her call, instead of firing from cover, she leapt over the parapet, backing up Izayoi once again and firing as she went. If this was going to be a death ride, then she was going to do it properly…

The sudden explosions that were not of her own volition and the subsequent disarray of the enemy battleline was something Éliane didn’t expect. Nor were the sudden appearances of what looked like another adventuring party.

Was that the distinct accent of another Skaelan she heard? Had the Edrenian king sent a second adventuring party to reinforce them, or had the Overseer seen it fit to send a second Skaelan expeditionary party as well…? Éliane was entirely confused, but she would pay more attention to the newcomers later.

Whatever it was, it changed their situation immediately. Firing another shot straight into the head of a distracted Valheimian soldier, she kicked him away as she directly fell in with the quickly disintegrating enemy cohesion. “They’re about to rout! Don’t let up the pressure!” she shouted, joining in Galahad’s exhortation as she sunk her gunblade into the chest of the unfortunate alheimian sharpshooter that had been taking potshots at her earlier.

Serves him right.

Not letting up the pressure, Éliane continued to push, nearly recklessly blitzing as she sought to break their morale completely. The last of her bullets in her chamber ran out as she cracked out at another infantryman, then parried another before kicking him away for someone else to deal with.

“Stick together! We can drive through them like a wedge and end this!”

She'd accepted the request. It was only natural, she was an honorable and just hero. The sort of person who would never turn down an opportunity to assist others. She would complete a task given to her by those in need with a flourish and a bow.

Only...

While she knew the bandits supposedly lingered around the border, that left a lot of places for her to look. And so far, her exploration had been fruitless.

Thankfully, she had plenty of food and ways to keep herself and her outfit pristine. It wouldn't do to show up looking shabby, after all, even if it was only the people she was meant to put and end to that would see her.

Supposedly, they were holed up in the remains of an abandoned village. It was likely something terrible happened there, but now it was only lingering remnants of whatever tragedy had occurred.

Robin didn't like to think about the past of such a place. But it was the duty of a hero to ensure such tragedies didn't occur again, even if that meant simply taking care of bandits who had been raiding innocent farmers and others who were unable to properly defend themselves.

However---

This was not the bandit camp she was expecting.

There was indeed a ruined village, that much was certain. It looked as if it had been abandoned for a considerable amount of time, as well. But it wasn't unoccupied now.

Far from it.

There was a battle. A furious clash between combatants who... well, some of them she didn't really recognize. But she could tell who the ones they were fighting were.

There was no mistaking the forces of Valheim.

Many people would have called it quits right there. Fled in order to preserve their own safety. It was a raging battle, after all. And it wasn't simply bandits, but soldiers of an enemy nation that sought to conquer the entire continent.

But Robin Fey was not simply 'many people'.

She held herself to a higher standard, one that told her that this could not stand.

While she couldn't speak of the motives of the other combatants, she couldn't allow Valheim to push their whims upon the land. It wasn't the job she was requested to do, but...

Well, it wasn't altogether different from taking care of bandits, now, was it?

A gunner leveled his weapon towards one of the enemies. No matter how outnumbered they were, an effort had to be made to kill at least one of them, after all.

However, he wasn't prepared for a pair of boots to collide directly with the side of his skull.

Skidding to a halt, through the aged debris that made of much of the town's remains, Robin drew her thin blade smoothly from its sheath in a flash as her cape fluttered behind her.

It was only natural that the gunner's fellows were stunned.

"Bandits or would-be conquerors, take note!" declared the amateur hero, "I, Robin Fey, shall not simply allow you to do as you please!"

It was a disorganized attack that followed, a soldier's steel blade lashing out to meet her as she only barely finished her introduction.

With a flourish, Robin used the edge of her weapon, grinding it along his own and guiding it away from her body, smoothly stepping close.

Before he could adjust, she had already, just as swiftly, thrust through his upper torso, aiming for the heart.

With one Valheim soldier knocked senseless, and another dead, Robin was already sprinting again, moving to avoid retaliation as swiftly as she could.

Staying on her feet was key to combat, after all.

"CRAVEN!" Izayoi screamed in fury as the Valheimr captain teleported away mere moments before she was within her sword's range. She recognized what it was, of course: a short-range teleport crystal, intended for a quick retreat without the Exit materia's cast time. Expensive and rare. That didn't help to alleviate her berserk rage, however.

"Mark my words, Valheimr witch! Upon mine name as Ranbu no Izayoi!" The Mystrel bellowed as she tore a gash into a gunner's chest before ramming her katana tip first into his belly repeatedly, her words punctuated by his screams. "Whereever you run, I will hunt you! Whether in this land or beyond, you will pay for your crimes!"

With their leadership either dead or fled, the remaining Valheimr began to withdraw in good order, volleys of gunfire covering their fighting retreat.

"We planned for this, men!" One in the forefront, apparently a sergeant of some sort, yelled. "Break out and regroup with Captain Reisa!"

Izayoi narrowed her eyes. So that was the name of her prey. Good. Something to work off of. Regardless, she would be damned if she let these soldiers escape. The others seemed to recognize the same, as well as the batch of newcomers that had appeared out of nowhere. Genuinely fortuitous. Without their intervention, the battle would have gone far differently. She surged forward, baring her fangs.

"Tear these dogs asunder! Carve your way forward in blood and bone!"

One stroke of her blade took off a soldier's hand. The next, another's foot, severed just above the greave. Izayoi fell back into old habits, deliberately crippling her foes rather than killing them outright. The Edrenians hadn't given her the moniker of Limbtaker for nothing. Valheimr men fell, cripples dragged away by their fellows or simply bleeding out.

Still, despite the Kirins or anyone else's best efforts, a sizable portion of soldiers managed to flee the fight thanks to both their sheer numbers and mass volleys of gunfire forcing their pursuers to take cover. Izayoi emerged from behind a tree after the final volley, hissing as the mass of black turned and fled in true. A lunge forward and she pounced on a straggler, her sword planted into a leg to pin him as she mounted the downed man, her wakizashi pointed at his throat with one hand as she ripped his helmet with another to reveal a wide-eyed youth screaming in pain.

"Reisa!" She snarled in the barely-a-man's face. "Where do I find her?!"

"Venerable ancestors, the pain..." The soldier whimpered. It was the wrong answer, as Izayoi's countenance darkened, the woman seizing him by the arm and ramming her short blade into his hand.

"The next stroke goes between your legs lest you give me an answer!"

The man howled in pain, but eventually nodded, sobbing.

"K-Kugane..."

She said nothing more and simply wrapped her empty hands around his windpipe, squeezing with all her might until he stopped breathing. Once that was done, Izayoi exhaled, rising and retrieving her blades before looking around. First, a nod at Galahad.

"I trust you have no issue with paying a visit to the capital next?"

Next, a glance around at the apparent newcomers, all of whom were in the vicinity by now.

"Your aid was appreciated. I would question you further, but the hour grows late, and sunset approaches soon. We've little choice but to set up camp first before it grows dark."

___

Some time later, the unlikely group found themselves encamped a ways away from the village, so as to avoid the fresh corpses they'd collectively created. Once the fire pit was set up and everyone was seated around it with rations, Izayoi finally spoke once more.

"Now, who are you people? One interloper in a dead village would be suspicious enough. But five? Your actions against the invaders have bought you good will, but your motives remain to be seen."

---

Nearly the second he called out to Izayoi, the surprised Valheimr troops fully recognized his presence and rounded on him. He could see Rudolf off on the other side of their captain hewing his own way through their forces, and content enough with that, let himself fall into the familiar rhythms of fighting. A sword swung his way was slapped aside with his buckler, and as the rest of his body followed the small shield's movement, the soldier that attacked him fell to the ground with intestines slipping out the new opening in his torso.

A second aimed, fired at him—the shot flew past his ear. He rushed the fusilier, stabbing him through the heart as he reloaded. The unmistakable thumping sound of a boot meeting flesh hit his ears a moment before that of flesh meeting hard ground, and he turned as some small boy—

No, no, not with that voice.

—some small woman issued forth her personal challenge to the enemy soldiers, distracting some that were moments away from trying to swarm him. He glanced back at their captain, eyes narrowing at the crystal she held. "Not happening!" he muttered, dropping his sword and quickly pulling out a dagger—and, in a single smooth, well-practiced motion, sending it spinning end-over-end underhand straight for the crystal. The moment before it would have knocked it clean from her hand, she disappeared instead, the knife sinking instead into the intestines of a soldier further behind her.

He frowned as the man dropped with a groan, his usually serene expression breaking at last into one of displeasure. "Well. Dra til helvete," he muttered, kicking his sword back up into his hand as the short skirmish rapidly turned into a rout.

---

Later that evening, as they all gathered around a communal fire, he expectedly found himself and his companion the partial subjects of a fresh interrogation. Having long since returned to his peacefully neutral expression, he let a small, relaxed smile come through. "This is Rudolf," he said, pointing off to his side at the seated swordsman. "He's a monster hunter, came up here to fight the Blight and do a little rebelling against Valheim while he's at it." His hand came back, placed on his own chest as he gave a small bow of his head.

"And I'm Esben Mathiassen, graduate of the Garden, here to gather intelligence for the Skaeller government. We figured we'd hold out in that village for a day or two to rest before I planned to continue on to Kugane. Rudi even found the cellar that we were able to hide in when those Valheimr grunts searched the house we were in!" He clapped the shorter man on the back soundly, his tone as congratulatory as it could be under the sing-song accent. "After we heard the rest of you fighting them, I thought about escaping, but I recognized your name and another voice in the group, so I decided we should help instead."

Content enough with his introduction, he turned his face from Izayoi, his eyes falling on Éliane instead, the small smile still on his face. "Commander Laruelle, ja?"

"...That's about the long and short of it." Rudolf confirmed after a moment's relief and unspoken thanks for Esben taking the lead. Ranbu no Izayoi's legendary brutality had long preceded her among the many Edrenian circles the younger man had ran in, and it was of little shock that her methodology for interrogation had played out the way it did.

For his part in the breaking of the Valheimr lines, the vagrant swordsman had busied himself with carving through their number piecemeal, isolating anywhere from one to three of those that had seemed attached to their more prominent lieutenants at a time into duels or smaller skirmishes where he could overwhelm them more readily due to the gulf in skill. As soldiers, he had to give credit to them, regardless of the bitterness it left on his tongue. They were disciplined, loyal, and trained quite well as common footmen went. It left little doubt to their effectiveness in cohesion— breaking them up and pulling them apart was all the more paramount for such reason. He doubted many of the average fighting lads in a township's guard could put on enough pressure to force those cracks into open divisions.

Unfortunately for them, he was cut from finer cloth. Looking to pack wolves for guidance was a storied tradition.

Forcing the hammering pulse in his chest down to an even tempo, he met the Limbtaker's eyes readily, coming out of the nod with an affable smirk. "Guess I'll at least repeat the formality. Going second to Esben means I have to work backwards from usual—" Not lying was the best kind of lying, if you had to do it. He was quite grateful the Skaeller had broken the ice ahead of him— Even with the safety valve of his current circumstances, he was still quite leery of the idea of Izayoi remembering him terribly well. Set a little bass in the tone. Straighten, but don't stiffen posture. Remember, you belong here.

"Like he said: I'm Rudolf, a Warrior from Sagramore Village. It's a bit west of central Edren. We lend our skills out as monster hunters pretty regularly, so we've all run into our share of the Blight as it stands— I had heard the King's dispatch for a party of those who'd put a stop to its spread, but missed my window to gain audience."

All true.

"Came up through the Midgar Passage afterwards, since the timing of Valheim's invasion was worth investigating. Ran into this guy not long after. Easier to travel with somebody watching your back. On the way through I'd heard rumors Lord Galahad had passed the same way not long ago,"

Here he turned to meet the dragoon's eyes, searching across the campfire for a reaction. In the confusion, he'd not gotten the chance to properly size the man up in the flesh... well, he'd get squarely mulched if they fought, decorated war hero against greenhorn monster hunter, but regardless. Rudolf had come up as a warrior in the perfect time for news of the scion of Caradoc's many exploits to reach his ears, and light a fire beneath him. Meeting him in person...

"I never expected our paths would cross so soon, if at all. It's an honor, Sir. Your reputation precedes you among our number."

... He had to keep it brief, or risk completely killing the polish on this crisp introduction. First impressions mattered, he could be starstruck in private now and then more openly later down the line, same as with his caution around Izayoi. And she was still his primary concern, even if her wrath had seemingly shelved itself enough to travel with the aforementioned Dragoon. The pair of them well-seasoned as they were, he couldn't be completely sure they'd not be perceptive enough to see past what he presented and key into the whirlpool this concerted effort to look relaxed was intended to belie...

Yeah, his nerves were still there, no matter what he hid them under. Usually he didn't let a concept get so overwrought in the prose. That was like hammering a blade into foil— doing too much and rendering it useless. On the surface, hopefully he'd thrown them off the scent.

"Honestly, he's been saying the 'gathering intelligence' line since before we exchanged names. If that part's a bit or a lie, it's a pretty committed one."

@Psyker Landshark@The Otter@vietmyke

She'd only just arrived but already the soldiers were in open retreat. Not that Miina could claim any responsibility for that one; she just provided a little incomplete healing and a few ice spells in trade from behind cover... which only looked more inadequate next to the absolute torrent the other mage pulled out to whittle down the escapees. The healing had to come for something, right? Even if it was insufficient, they wouldn't think she was here to spy and going easy on the invaders, would they?

Maybe she should just run while everyone was distracted–crap they were already looking this way. And after that crystal escape she wouldn't have time for her plan B.

Myaaaaaa...

---

Standing in line for introductions, Miina fiddled with her sleeves and... well, it wasn't eye contact. Mostly it was looking at the larger Mystral's chest, since that was about right and basically straight ahead.

"Ummm... Miina M-Malina. I'm j-j-just l-l-l... my brother. In O-Osprey. There w-was a checkpoint, g-g-g–going around." Eight, it was hard enough to explain things normally and now she was worried they were going to kill her for being too incompetent to not be a plant. Under the coat, her tail curled protectively around.

If she wasn't mumbling so much, she'd look more bored than scared.