@Ithradine@Raineh Daze@Click ThisWell...
In sum total inventory of damages, that was his cloak and hat both officially marked down as noble sacrifices, KIA in furthering the cause of the broader war effort. He'd remember them fondly, tearfully even, for how well they brought the initial ensemble he called his own together— but their loss came in the wake of far more important successes. The gun line cleared, the turret distracted for the crucial moment.
Near the back of the throng ascending the stairs, he watched the other Kirin's make haste towards what had no doubt turned into some kind of hostage situation up their, with Ciradyl likely behind the last remains of Tane's "honor guard" on retinue. If there was one thing he'd been taught lately, it was that he wasn't
quite the glib orator he'd hoped he could be under pressure, regardless of his many hours of study beneath the tutelage of actual diplomats and the like. Esben was already up there, as was Galahad, they were surely better hands at the tense negotiations they'd be making—
Not to mention the sneaking suspicion he was gaining, ever since that day they fought the Revenant, that his mere presence was beginning to set people on edge more and more.
So instead of racing up to match the frontrunners, he instead came to a stop in line with Eliane, currently busy eyeing the turret that the penultimate goon had set upon them halfway up the final flight, spewing lines of hot lead like the breath of a Midgari dragon. To his eyes it was an almost alien thing, brutal, sleek, all metal in its' construction and finish— undeniably far more advanced than any firearm he had seen domestically. A hand crank to rotate through the set of twelve barrels encased within a steel drum, a belt feeding what had to be the cartridges into the internal machinery, no breech to load he could find, the cannonesque wheels it was set atop...
He was keen on picking apart the structure. That much was true, as it should have been of any proper soldier— but they were on a time crunch, as the bead of sweat down his brow and the thick taste of smoke on the air quickly reminded him. He looked to the Dame Commander.
"If you can identify all the non-essentials, I should be able to lug it down," he offered, reaching out to judge the heft from how it responded. Even beneath his low opinion of himself, he knew he was stronger than he looked, and trained hard every day.
"Whatever we can leave here to compromise on space and balance should make it easier. I think if we at least get it off the whee—"A palm on his back interrupted his train of thought.
The soft, "g-go." reaching his ears put a pin in it.
And his arm disappearing from view completely disoriented him right the hell off of it, as the diminutive Mystrel turned the placement into a
push toward the stairs, further up.
He waved his arm, trying to ignore that he suddenly didn't have his nose on the insider corners of his vision. His eyes were having trouble reconciling not having to block it out— more importantly, he took note of how his form shimmered more readily as the speed increased— That spell she used wasn't a perfect obfuscation of form. He'd need to move with care... and from the sounds of things above, he was short on time to do so.
"...I'll get back to you on that." he murmured, before bounding further up in a low crouch.
The scene he arrived to had already gotten pretty tense. Ciradyl, who he'd watched handle herself as comfortably as any of them against the Valheim and Blightbeasts, had a gun all but digging into her temple as Tane clutched her like a dog guarding a kill, eyes bloodshot and certain to keep everyone up there in her field of view.
On that note, Izayoi had already pulled her gaze off towards the side she clutched their Faye acquaintance at something like a 45 degree angle... and been convinced to plant there, glaring daggers. The rest had largely bundled up to the front, where Mizutani was sure to keep her peripherals in line— that left the opposing flank free. Use it?
No. She was jumpy. Wary. Expecting the jaws of a trap to snap shut... and if he was willing to bet, expecting it from that direction. The moment she sensed movement from there, all bets would be off. He could make better use of this cloaking.
As Miina began to parlay, trying to coax out information about Zeke from one of their two real leads, Rudolf instead circled rightward, in a careful creep along Izayoi's path. Simple logic. She had already grown accustomed to having one of her bigger threats checked there, with the Limbtaker's feet firmly planted, so once her active attention shifted over to Miina, she'd not be looking much harder for any sleight of hand than watching the samurai's own movement. Once he was in a better position, he could—
—Never finish up his on-the-spot plan, as those never survived contact with enemy nor ally.
A flash of silver, one that those that lived by the sword were all too familiar with. He abandoned the idea of stealth, unseen eyes wide as a helpless cry of
"Hold on—" escaped his lips, rushing forward. Too late, even as quick as he was— much like Izayoi had determined, there was still enough time for a bullet or blade to strike before they could get there.
The spray of blood painted his partially-obscured frame warm and red as the two women tumbled to the ground, Ciradyl's rictus snarl painted over her once-graceful features as though possessed by a demon. She was stabbing, stabbing, the stiletto painted red as he, forcing the needle down like a vengeful stinger through the crime lord's palms, towards her throat in a murderous drive.
"Dammit, not yet, Ciradyl! Let's at least—"This wasn't a struggle. Ciradyl was by a league stronger. If he wasted time, they would lose this opportunity.
Miina would lose it, and be back at all but square one. He had no grievances with her wanting vengeance, not really. He knew what it was to hate. To have your heart overcome your good sense. In a way, his was, even now—
But he couldn't let it take Mizutani. If it did, it would tumble over into Miina's chances, and wreck them immediately. He couldn't stand by. If the Faye hated him for obstructing vengeance like this, so be it. He understood.
Better him than one of the rare friends he felt like he might have still been able to make around here.
He drew up to them, and Ciradyl would find her dominant arm stopped cold by a vicelike grip, every bit as strong compared to her as she was to her prey.
"Learn something—"Not a breath later a sudden force pulled her back, away from Tane, towards the direction of her own back as Rudolf sat his weight down and wrenched her into him, right arm clamped onto her clavicle from above the opposite shoulder to keep the neck high, other snaked beneath the armpit to elevate and isolate the arm.
"—Before we lose the chance!"His legs were equally quick to work, forcing into the floor to scoot them further before wrapping around her waist, attempting to simply clamp on in lieu of isolating the legs by lacing his own into the back of her knees. It would have extended her out good and immobile-like, but the dress was in the way— and he and it both had been painted red enough already.
Red.
The stabs. One in the shoulder, one in the abdomen that he could see. Maybe a third somewhere in the thigh. The hands. All bleeding profusely. Given the length of the weapon... Shit, that second was gonna be bad, real bad! Mind racing, he barked out what he could.
"Before she goes into shock over there, hurry! Her abdominal wall's probably punctured! Keep her talking!" 
