As Esben ran along behind Izayoi and Rudolf, he leaned down, scooping up the fallen guard's carbine next to where she had fallen to his knife. He pushed the lever slightly, opening the bolt just enough to be sure the weapon was loaded, before continuing on his way. Scavenging the enemy's weaponry was a good way to conserve one's own, and oftentimes gave a small element of surprise to the fighting that could otherwise be lacking—both qualities that Esben appreciated.
And would come to appreciate more as they ran into a patrol blasting their way in as they were en route to the point where they intended to blast their own way out. As soon as the troops came rushing in, he dove behind one of the standing blocks for cover, water spraying out over his head as the fixture near its top was struck by stray gunfire—
—Before the smell of ozone filled the air, rapidly followed by that of heavily charred meat. The short burst of gunfire stopped, though the heavy footfalls of the other half of the cohort coming to meet them barely faltered as their comrades dropped from their perches. He glanced across the way to Rudolf, giving a small nod at the man's words, before the Edrenian came out from behind his cover and rushed forwards.
"One, two..." he murmured to himself, letting Rudolf cross blades with the invaders and drive them back for a moment to draw their attention. Three.
He came out from the far side of his cover, sprinting up past where Rudolf had engaged the leading portion of the cohort. Some noticed him and turned his way, skidding as they shifted direction to try and run his way as Rudolf occupied the others; once sure he wouldn't catch his own ally in the fire, Esben leveled the carbine at the soldiers, emptying the weapon's magazine in a rapid burst of fire. Those that weren't caught by the lead flying their way would be forced to take cover, returning the favor for Rudolf to advance again and dispatch whoever was left.
The squad they'd been confronted with within the prison was rapidly dealt with; Izayoi's quick strike left the sergeant standing, wide-eyed and ashen-faced as blood spurted from the stumps where his wrists and hands once resided. The pistol clattered to the floor, the sergeant stumbling backwards behind the closing lines of his compatriots—tripping over his feet and landing hard on his back as the fight began in earnest. Unhurried, Esben slipped the last of the bindings from around his wrists, fixing his sleeves as best as he could before picking up his sword and belting it back around his waist where it belonged.
He picked carefully between the remaining fights happening, the majority of the Valheimer soldiers already picked off between the three Kirins and Ciradyl's planted agents. He narrowly ducked under the swung bayonet of one soldier and twisted past the thrust of another, before hearing each engulfed by Eve's fire just behind him, breaking past the enemy line.
The sergeant, surprisingly still conscious, was shakily trying to come up to his feet a short distance away, braced against one wall where he'd managed to crawl while the others fought. Esben closed the distance quickly, pulling out the dagger he'd been given to cut his bonds, and placed it against the neck of the sergeant, pressing in just enough to be painful. The man stiffened immediately, though any cry he might have given was stifled by Esben's other hand holding his mouth shut.
"Should've shot first," he said, almost apologetically. "Lord Hien's cell is the deepest, ja? How many more of you are around it for us to worry about? Speak quickly, please. I may be able to keep you alive if you're helpful."
"For what?" the sergeant replied haughtily, maintaining a portion of his attitude despite the blood he'd lost and the knife to his neck. "I'm already dead if you succeed or fail, boor. Qui—"
Esben slid the knife smoothly through the man's neck, blocking off whatever the sergeant's last words would've been as the knife tore apart his larynx and blocked any further airflow. "For the record, I didn't say I would, just that I might," he replied conversationally, before roughly jerking the blade forwards, tearing out the front of the man's throat and sending a spray of blood against the wall. The sergeant slumped immediately; but before he could start digging through the man's pockets for any keys or anything else useful, one of the last few soldiers remaining in the squad broke from the line of battle, Esben's eye catching the flash of blonde hair as she ran for an alarm lever partway down the hall.
He straightened, arm cocking back automatically. His focus slightly ahead of the target, he stepped forward, hurling the dagger right in the woman's path. It flipped fully once, point sinking in between her shoulder blades as she crossed its path. "Too close," Esben scoffed to himself as, falling, she stretched out her arms, barely catching the alarm lever and pulling it down with her.
Not that anything could be done about it at that point. He bent back down, hands probing each of the sergeant's pockets before coming out with a ring of keys that, he hoped, would correspond to cells within the secure holding area. He turned back as the others finished putting down the last of the soldiers, waving them over. "You all, stay a little ways behind us and hold any off that try to follow behind," he commanded Ciradyl's people. "Izayoi, Rudolf, you take point. Eve and I will be right behind you. No telling how many they were keeping on top of Hien."
The conventional tactics being suggested and debated by the others were unsurprising. Eve's suggestion, as well, was more in line with expectations than against them; she was a weapon made for war, and the rest were soldiers and warriors. Everybody would work with what they knew. Esben sat in silence for a few moments more as he contemplated the numbers Ciradyl had available in comparison to the force they would work against. One dozen allies on the inside, up to one hundred Valheimer soldiers available to focus on the execution. Assuming that number did not include Ciradyl's agents, that still meant that by combining their numbers they made up better than ten percent of the enemy force.
Not the worst odds if a mission like this went sour.
He drained his cup of tea, setting it back down in front of him. As Arton finished speaking, his hand came up, a small gesture to hopefully silence any others before they spoke up so that he could get his own words out without having to raise his voice. "So, we have allies on the inside to work with, further forces outside, our own number, the capacity to pass messages rapidly and safely, and more importantly—we have other high value targets. Good."
His hand fell slightly, pointing at various members of the party in turn. "Ranbu no Izayoi. Eve. Myself, and..." His eyes glanced over to Robin next to him; small and nimble as she was, she could prove useful, and skilled enough with a blade he wouldn't have to worry. But not someone he'd fought with much. Miina was another unknown. Éliane would be useful in a pitched battle, but would overlap too much with his own plan. Arton, maybe; Galahad, maybe, though he could imagine better use for him outside.
"Rudi." His pointing finger fell on the last his eyes passed over. Perceptive and thoughtful from what he'd gathered, and moreover, as a hunter Rudolf could be trusted to know both when to be sneaky and when to get loud. And, seemingly, he was not prone to overt displays of heroics. "Two high-value targets long before now, and two that were up close enough to Reisa in our last skirmish that the descriptions of all of us she's no-doubt been passing around will be more detailed in our particular cases. Worthy to make an added show of force come morning, removing multiple thorns in their sides."
Esben turned back to Ciradyl and Galahad, a small smile on his face. "Call Chisaki back in, and have her sell us out to the occupiers. Pass messages quickly to all of those you have on the inside, run any bribes you need to make sure as many of them as possible are in the party that will detain us, and have us transported to this Eastern Detention Center. They'll secure our weapons as well. Once we're ready to be placed into confinement, we'll turn on any hostiles who are closest and neutralize them, our weapons returned to us. Release Lord Hien, Eve can open a path for us by knocking down a wall or five, and the rest of you can be stationed along whichever escape route we determine best, ready to receive us as we make our exit, or to come in after us if things should go abnormally wrong."
He shrugged at that possibility. Worth remembering, not worth considering; at that point, any plan would be in tatters as it was.
"As it stands, my preference would be to simply grab him, force open a way out, and make our retreat. I'd suggest Éliane be given opportunity to engage in some surprise remodeling of the city if it proves needed to deny the enemy advance, so it would be wise to send out some messengers and surreptitiously evacuate whichever route we plan to take. For that goal of simplicity of escape, a simple infiltration—we're hardly all suited to a kidnapping, after all, and a pitched battle doesn't suit us no matter where or what time we choose it."
Beating their way deeper into the Talderian lines had proven both a quicker and slower prospect than he'd imagined; quicker in that the strain was showing on each individual warrior among their midst far faster than he'd have expected, though their skill at fighting in formation was proved far more of a counter to the knights' individual prowess than he'd hoped for. Thus, slower. Overall the groups found themselves fairly evenly matched, though it was no secret which would tire first.
Renar led the way as they naturally formed into a small wedge, driving the push into the Talderians; Fionn hadn't let up on the momentum once since his first swing, falling into a rapid rhythm of alternating mandritto and roverso fendenti hammering downward into the uplifted shields and blades of the foes before him as they slowly pushed in, careful not to let his footwork carry him away from the other three. Gerard was there to watch their backs and keep any opportunistic fighters from penetrating and breaking the wedge, and the only protection he had on his other flank was Renar's own furious assault.
The Talderians took blows, tried to riposte, took more—fell back, and more came and took their place instantaneously, flowing back in like water.
Or pushing forward like sharks' teeth renewing, depending on how aggressively they came in.
Gertrude's fire continued raining down; he continued to attack, taking advantage of each opportunity to force another legionnaire to be pulled back, another to replace them at the front. If it had to be attrition for the moment, then so be it. He had more tricks up his sleeve.
"I've got the rear, lads!" he growled in response to Renar's urging them to reposition. Gerard pushed off of him as he turned to more squarely face the wide arc of soldiers left behind; he let his last cut carry his blade down below the midline of the assault, the tip coming low left, whirling back up in an arc—thrust forward rapidly at the first Talderian to advance, who retreated again instantly. The blade fell back, tracing the reverse of its prior path under Fionn's guiding hands, and he covered their retreat with a series of rising steps nearly the exact inverse of his prior assault. Roverso sottano with the false edge, mandritto sottano with the true; the blade became a shield wall all its own, both warding the enemy's blades with its speed and heft and presenting enough of a threat from the same that they didn't dare come too close.
Gertrude flew high above them, raining a hailstorm of magical blasts down upon the Talderian host. Fionn's blade rose again from his lower left; this time he didn't turn it fully for the pattern, instead only coming down partway before redirecing into a rapid mezzano from the right to fend off a legionnaire who'd escaped the initial starry assault and send him back to his allies. His blade redirected again, up into a high guard, posta di finestra sinestra. Point forward, but not thrusting again; Renar lunged forwards, swiping low horizontal at their legs, Fleuri just beside him.
Fionn lunged forward as well, capitalizing on the sudden threat of his allies to advance. Gerard was barely a step behind joining the attack, and Fionn wouldn't be left lacking by the other three. He advanced as well, one step, two, turning his blade to be ready for a fierce downward blow and regathering his breath and energy as he did so—and he delivered a forceful lunging stomp into the ground, with an accompanying bark of "Krini!" His training with Erich had helped him to capitalize on the knowledge that Fiadh had imparted to him so abruptly, even that of her own, nature-focused fae magic, such that he could direct it more effectively. With more intention.
And just as he'd intended, mana poured out from his foot, setting the ground to shake and destabilize immediately beneath the feet of the same front row of Talderians that Renar and Fleuri were aiming to topple and dispatch.
Mandritto—Initiated from the attacker's outside line, aimed at the defender's inside line. From right to left for the majority of attackers.
Roverso—The reverse of mandritto. From the attacker's inside line to the defender's outside line; left to right from the attacker's perspective, normally. Southpaws begone.
Fendente—A sharply angled (as in the text above) or vertical descending cut. Can be done with either the true or false edge.
Sottano—A sharply angled (as in the text above) or vertical rising cut. Can be done with either the true or false edge.
Mezzano—An attack between a fendente and a sottano. Can either be diagonal with a shallower angle, or completely horizontal. Here, horizontal.
Posta di Finestra Sinestra—The left window guard. Point forward, hands held high, cross protecting the head. Here held more forward and up, more akin to a left ochs from the German school than the traditional Italian stance of posta di finestra.
And for Snow:
Vom Tag—"From the Roof;" an offensive high guard in German school longsword fencing. The point is high, with the blade either on the shoulder, or held higher with the crossguard and forte protecting the head, or even held almost directly vertically over the head in preparation for, most commonly, an Oberhau or Zornhau.
Oberhau—An overhand, descending strike. Essentially the same thing as a fendente.
Unterhau—The reverse of the above. An underhand, ascending strike. AKA sottano. Either an Oberhau or Unterhau can be with the true or false edge.
Mittelhau—A very shallowly angled or horizontal strike from either right or left. Roughly equivalent to a mezzano, though the Italian mezzano encompasses a wider range of angle to the strike than does the German Mittelhau.
Zornhau—Wrath Strike/Wrath Hew/Wrath Cut. The first of the Meisterhauen, or master strikes, of German longsword fencing. Still an Oberhau, but not quite as steeply angled—the attacker steps offline, bringing their blade down at a nearly forty-five degree angle, usually aimed towards their opponent's arms when done offensively. Can also be aimed for the opponent's blade, either offensively to force it off the center line, or done defensively as the response to an attack, beating aside an opponent's Oberhau to enter the bind and deliver a thrust in response—the Zornhau-Ort. Very brief overview, ask me if you want more options of how it can be used, I can talk for at least fifteen minutes on just how to do a good Zornhau.
Wechsel—Another guard; right foot forward, with the blade held low with the point out to the left, hands close in to the body with the false edge facing the opponent. Can be mirrored on the left. Usually the ending point of a Zornhau. Can be thought of as a wider variation of Alber.
Alber—the "Fool's Guard." The blade is held low, with the false edge facing up towards the opponent, the point is forward rather than off to the side like Wechsel. This is the ending point for a full length Oberhau from either right or left; a full right Oberhau ends in left Alber and the mirror follows.
"The hopeful part of you is thinking at the wrong scale," Esben replied. The rest of Rudolf's thoughts could wait for the time being, but given how many of the group did seem intent on rescuing Lord Hien, the time to focus on strategy and tactics was fully upon them. Better to focus on keeping them all from getting killed in the moment rather than cleaving only to the long-term view. "Distractions are a tool for larger units and full armies. Not one as small as ours."
He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a small sip of his tea as he tried to visualize the troop movements that Ciradyl had told them. At least the knowledge that Hien had been active within the resistance alleviated some of his worries about what to do with the young man, assuming that his allies could keep him from getting recaptured. Lessened patrols would make moving around the city easier in the immediate time frame, though either success or failure would be enough of a shock to make them bring the patrols back to their original strength, if not increase them.
He still wasn't entirely sure that freeing Hien would be better than martyring him or smuggling him into Edreni hands as a bargaining chip, but if Ciradyl's network could handle him then, Esben supposed, his freedom could prove as usefully inflammatory as his death might.
"A rebellion known to be active, within the capital city of a recently captured nation, with a primary target and a band of militants surrounding her already known to be on approach to the city? He'll be under the heaviest guard of any save whoever they've appointed to govern this territory, and any sign of unrest the night before his execution will only serve to make them tighten their net further. We'd be signing his death warrant ourselves with tactics like that."
By the time he'd finished, his flat stare had fallen on Rudolf. These were men they dealt with, not beasts...and tactics like that didn't work on beasts, either. The closest would be trapping or corralling them.
He turned back to Ciradyl after a moment. "How many do you have on the inside, how many of yours in general are comfortable possibly showing their faces in connection to this, and how much do you believe in their loyalty?"
One hand came up quickly, grabbing at the tail of Robin's jacket as she stood and declared her commitment in an attempt to try and stem the bit of nervous trembling in her fingers. With a firm grasp, Esben lightly tugged on the hem of the jacket. "No declarations without plans," he chided as he urged her to sit back down, before adding, much more quietly: "Learn to sit with your discomfort. Don't let it push you into making pledges you can't always keep. That's just a different sort of cowardice."
Esben looked up from the short pair he had been speaking with as Izayoi sprang up, barely giving the rest a chance to process the news before requesting to go and rescue the young lord from the noose. A lord she couldn't have seen since the last war's end, from what he'd been taught about the war between Edren and Osprey. Until he'd seen her alive himself he'd only paid minor attention to the tales working their way through the populace that she'd returned—he'd have thought it more likely that someone had chosen to take up her tactics and name as a rebellious ploy, rather than fact.
A lord who was barely more than a child when the last war had ended.
"What do you honestly expect to do with him if you're successful?"
Where Rudolf had quickly pledged his aid, rattling off his own tactical appraisal of the immediate scenario—one that was, as expected, just as far beyond the average sword-swinging monster hunter as had been his insightful thoughts on occupation and sieges in the days before—Esben couldn't agree to the same so rapidly. Izayoi herself had already made mention that the wider mission bore the greater importance, and hadn't offered up any way in which such a rescue would aid their mission.
And it was Rudolf that pointed out one part of what it could cost them. More than they could really afford—while the group wasn't without skill, Izayoi was an asset they couldn't lose, both for her own skill and the fact that she was the one Ospreyan among them. "We still don't know the full situation here. How far our host's influence reaches, the overall state of any movements within the populace to subvert Valheimer control...do you plan to turn him loose? An ildsjel is a valuable resource, but one that needs to be handled carefully, and needs the network in place that they'll act within."
Without the network in place that made them useful, such a person would better serve as a martyr than a figurehead. And he had his doubts that the young man, little more than a boy, would prove the most effective figurehead at that; some level of leadership and skill were still necessary, and if he remembered his details right, Hien was young enough to be barely more than a child. Much of their number was the same, but the present company was exceptional for all that some of their number had accomplished despite their age, and counting on encountering more such was optimistic to the point of being foolhardy.
"Ciradyl." His head turned sharply following his eyes, landing on their host where she sat. No self-identification given; if asked he'd give his name, but his own interjection had already ruined the opportunity to give himself a proper introduction. "You and yours are the only ones here that can answer some of those questions, and more besides. What are the patrols through the city normally like, and how dense? How firm of a grip do they maintain and have they been tightening down on the citizens or loosening up? What percentage of the garrison has already left the city?" His eyes glanced back at Izayoi for a moment, as intent to gauge her reaction to his words as he was to note that of the rest, before his head turned again, this time to Galahad.
"Barring, perhaps, those of us who arrived so much later than the initial part of this team—none of us are as expendable, nor expendable in the same way when we are, as the common soldiery. We need more information, and some semblance of a plan, before we can consider risking our limited resources on this."
Not an entire second after her sigh, Robin felt a quick poke to the ribs as Esben settled into the spot between her and Eve. "Head up, shoulders back," he commanded just as quickly, just quietly enough not to draw attention away from Rudolf and Galahad as they took over the conversation from Ciradyl and Izayoi's sudden embrace. "That mopey look might've served you well sneaking through the streets, but let's not forget that a third of being a hero is in appearances, ja?" The theatre cover seemed more apt than the shinobi or their host might even have realized, given the personalities of all those included in it; hopefully they all at least knew their parts well enough to fit into the wider ensemble.
Or could learn them quickly enough.
At least the others could take heart that Esben was back to his usual self once they were within the safehouse; his usual easygoing demeanour had been entirely absent as they approached Kugane, his focus almost entirely on his observations of the occupying force, their activities, and the effects of their presence. As much as he may have jested with Eve about it when Chisaki first dropped in front of them, he couldn't keep his mind off work this close to the enemy.
"Maybe you and Eve can take a page from each other's book," he suggested, leaning back and gesturing over at the half-dragon mage. "Prudence and subtlety are just as virtuous as forthrightness and chivalry, after all."
"Don't get too comfortable with that, now," Fionn muttered just after Renar finished speaking. He'd been about to suggest a plan of attack himself, but between the interruption and Renar's peremptory tone, whatever it was had quickly left his mind. At least Renar knew what each of them were best at in this sort of scenario. "Shame we don't get double pay for this."
Not that they were actually risking their lives this time.
Renar and Gerard sprinted forwards, driving into the Talderian knights like a nail in a board. Fionn fell in next to Fleuri, mumbling some half-recognizable words as he ran his hand along the blade of his sword. "Nu, wird grōz," he finished, mana flowing as unmistakably into the sword as it came flying in the form of fire out of Gertrude's broom. Green light eneveloped the weapon, the longsword remaining at its core as it shaped itself into a great two-handed blade of a size with Fleuri's own. Fionn felt his own grasp pushed slightly wider to accomodate the larger hilt of the weapon, his free hand grasping near the ephemeral pommel to control the suddenly increased weight.
'A useful trick,' Erich had basically described it as. Forming a greatsword out of the ether in case a normal blade wouldn't be enough, the energies making it up anchored to the actual sword. Less to focus on to try and maintain it; good enough for Fionn, as trying to consider just how a blade made of little more than light and energy could have such real-feeling weight and cutting ability was beyond his understanding of magical theory. "Change of plans," he grunted to the taller knight off to his left, rushing forwards with his blade held low and back. "Split around Renar. Wedge formation, Gerard will keep them from breaking our center!"
As Gerard moved to either stab or tackle the knight that had slipped around behind Renar, Fionn came off to the other side; a swift rising cut colliding with the blade of another Talderian and sending it wide off its target in a cutting parry. Unwilling to sacrifice any energy whatsoever, Fionn let the momentum carry the tip of his blade up and round, loosely guiding it with his hands around into a crushing overhand blow aimed just above the Talderian's left ear within the blink of an eye.
Helmet or no, that much force being transferred would still leave the one suffering it crippled or killed—and with no edge to worry about damaging but all the weight and strength behind the strike as though it was a true greatsword, Fionn had no qualms about aiming at the hard targets.
I stare at the woman for longer than I probably should, trying to piece together everything she keeps talking about. From 'Holy Grail War' to talking about classes like this was some role playing game. I'm still not sure I haven't found myself caught up in some elaborate LARP, for the record. It was at least less worrying to imagine that was the case than to stick with the assumption that this girl before me was completely insane. But, on the bright side, she was at least willing to find something different to wear.
"Hold on."
Something else in bothering me much more. I get up, walking over to her side of the short table and kneeling down. "Don't stab your food. Look, hold them like this—" I take her hand in mine, arranging the chopsticks between her fingers the right way. "You saw the way I was doing it, right? You're supposed to grab things with the chopsticks, not skewer them."
Rather than remain too close, I back away as soon as I'm sure she's holding the chopsticks right, returning to my spot. Getting her more normal clothing would at least help keep her from standing out too much until I could figure out how beast to deal with her, sure...although who knows what she'll try and do once we're out and about.
But she keeps calling me her master. And she took direction earlier. Maybe that'll be the ticket to keep her from causing trouble outside?
"So. Kimonos, you were saying? Not a bad idea, but they aren't the most practical clothes in the world. We probably ought to find you some more typical wear, too, especially if you're going to be staying undercover. Unless you do want to borrow some of my spares." I look her up and down more appraisingly than I did before. I already know we're basically the same height, and she's not much thinner than me either.
"Fit should work. You're not too far off from me, shouldn't even be too tight in the..."
My metaphorical train of thought runs off track as one half of my brain catches up to the other. I look back down at the food quickly, not bothering to finish that thought.
Member
Andre Valias
wintersoldier
ColdAtlas
HereComesTheSnow
Estylwen
Pen Name
Irradiant
LucidRain
Foxy13
Sir Lurksalot