1132/Fight! Ninjas versus Union at the Rookery!

Fight! Ninjas versus Union at the Rookery!
Date of Scene:	13 December 2014
Location:	TARGET: The Rookery (TR)
Synopsis:	The Union's contested hold on the Rookery is challenged by the Confederacy!
Cast of Characters:	Fuki, Eryl Fairfax, 592, 647, 651

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Eryl Fairfax has posed:
     Eryl stands at the top of one of the many towers of the Gray Citadel, looking out on the mountains and some of the dragons swooping around here and there, ruminating on the past few days. Losing to Odin, and then losing to Gaius were two heavy blows on his ego, two shocks to his belief that he can do anything.

     ReGenesis weren't happy with him putting his life on the line either. They made him run the next leg of his journey to make up for it, resulting in him finding a settlement a little sooner than he normally would. It's night there now, and everyone is asleep, so Eryl came here to check out the view.

     He leans on the ramparts and looks out, wind tousling his hair and a tired look on his eyes. The legs of his suit are dirty, caked in dust and the soles are starting to look a little worn already.

Thranduil (592) has posed:
     Thranduil had heard that there was a place where dragons dwelled and went on an expedition to see whether or not it was true, and whether they would be a threat to his kingdom. They have enough problems with Smaug holed up in Erebor, the last thing they need is another type of dragon coming along and burning down their forest.

     The Elvenking made the journey alone, armed with his double swords and nothing else. He is wearing his winter crown now, and his usual silver robe which might not be the best outfit to fight in, but he's not anticipating a fight. His long white hair flows around him as the breeze blows it back. As he grows closer, he slowly draws one of his swords from its sheath, piercing blue eyes looking into the distance to see what is lurking in the area.

Fuki has posed:
    Fuki's hidden in the shadows of one of those towers, the self same tower that the outlier is on, Eryl that is. Fuki's black armor assisting with concealing the six inch tall android in those shadows as she slips a jet black scythe off of her back, a custom order from a certain weapons manufacturer. A smile comes behind her black fox mask, the tail behind her swaying in the breeze of the tower. She looks up, towards one of the flying black dragons in the sky and gives a nod.

    Black wings spread and a red glow comes from behind those eyes in the mask. Soon enough, the blue light from thrusters upon her back send her jetting into the sky and with a twist and another thruster burst, she barrels towards the lone Elite. She says nothing, only to allow the full force of a jet powered tiny battering ram aimed to displace and knock Eryl off the tower, hopefully sending her below!

Noiela (647) has posed:
A white speck floats on the horizon, the reason for its unsteady progress becoming clear as the object draws closer. White feathered wings, flowing mane. It is a pegasus, flying horses whose tempermental flights of fancy certainly hold more than correlation to their design. Clinging desperately and rendered almost blind by the cutting wind as she squints is a short, coated woman, hair matching her steed. Pockets bulging with clinking bottles, sword and tome strapped solidly on; she is ready for possible battle.
More than possible.

"Come on, please..." Her horse neighs, tossing its head in agitation. Softly she whispers, causing its ear to flick. "I'm not S...Miss Sumia, but-" Spotting the violent swing intended to displace Eryl from a distance, the horse and tactician react similarly; for once today working in concert. Down they swoop, aiming to provide a softer landing than the ground below for the unaware Eryl.

Madara Uchiha (651) has posed:
In the darkness, there is still light. Though the air be smoky and full of soot, though ash may coat the ground and the moon be concealed behind volcanic clouds, the illumination of molten rock gushing up from the depths of the earth from the tops of cone-shaped mountains, the strike of heat-lightning from the sky, and the glare of dragon's fire appearing sporadically, all provide a harsh, hellish sort of mad-light to see by.

But a black dragon against a black and grey sky, just one among many such creatures, is not necessarily noticeable. The same can be said for a man primarily in black and red, riding upon the back of the great beast - in a position not visible from the ground. With his Sharingan, a red pupil with three black comma-like symbols around the outer edge, resting upon a background of black - not white - Madara Uchiha can see even from up here. His visual prowess is such that can penetrate the scalding gasses and clouds of ash with ease, and perceive those moving about on the ground and in the towers and upon the battlements, from thousands of miles above. The darkness hinders the Uchiha's vision not one whit.

Thanks to his ability to predict movement, Madara calculates exactly when Fuki will strike, and uses his occular powers to control his dragon mount to begin to dive in accordance with that. When Fuki launches her ramming assault, the Union soldiers around her and Eryl are, one by one, looking up at the sky as they become aware of the powerful gusts of wind and the noise that accompanies such, of vast, leathery wings. They are seeing the form of a huge black dragon diving towards them. And they are feeling the cold fear in their gut, as the glaring yellow eyes of the black beast, and the glow of molten fury in its maw, leaves no illusions about what is about to happen.

Too late, those defenders whose training overcomes their instincts move to sound the alarm, to ready to defend.

The black dragon spreads its maw wide, and Madara merely watches the creature do as he controls it to.

The world below becomes fire.

A flamethrower stream of enormous proportions rakes the broken landscape, douses the towers, and floods through open windows and doors, turning the Grey Citadel - at least in part - into a conflagration. Soldiers scream, burn, and die. Ammunition for weapons emplacements, stored unsafely, detonates. And a certain elf king, caught without his guards or cover, may get to experience just a taste of what dragon fire is capable of, as the mere wash of heat is enough to singe flesh.

The dragon pulls out of its dive, and then ascends, the soldiers still capable of fighting firing after it - and not noticing the man in red armor who leapt from it and landed right in the middle of it all, seemingly without any care for the inferno he now stands in.

Noiela's timely rescue likely keeps Eryl from suffering the fate the soldiers in the towers did.

But the heat rising up off the ground is very, very noticeable.

Eryl Fairfax has posed:
     Eryl is just looking out at the sky, when he is suddenly aware of a sharp pain on his back, his balance tipping... and he's falling, fast, bouncing off the citadel walls a couple of times. Eyes looking around wildly, he spots Noiela and her flying steed, rushing to catch him. Thankfully, Original Face is too preoccupied with what to do to worry about the impossibility of a flying horse. When the wall comes close again, he kicks off from it to correct himself, landing on the pegasus' back.

     "Many thanks for the save," he says to Noiela, when the cool temperature suddenly spikes up by a few degrees, a dragon breathing mighty torrents of fire at a figure on the ground. Eryl looks down, his sharp eyes picking out the white hair, the pointed ears, the twin swords. King Thranduil. Patting Noiela on the shoulder, he points down at him. "Land me down there please, quickly."

     But now the dragon. What was this one suddenly attacking? Looking up, Eryl's eyes notice the humanoid figure riding it. Wild black hair, red armour, signs of crimson in the eyes. Original Face matches it to recent AARs about a 'Madara Uchiha.' He starts to feel a heavy stone of dread settle in his stomach. He just came here to relax, and now he's getting involved in another scuffle for territory? With someone who is apparently incredibly powerful? Part of him wishes he could run, so he doesn't have to risk failure again...

     But the rest of him steels himself. That is still only a possibility, one of many. He might win. He is strong. Not the strongest he knows anymore, but still strong. Looking up at Madara, his own eyes comparable with the Sharingan, he starts to calculate distance, the dragon's speed and Madara's projected positions over the next few seconds all in an instant.

     He then points his left index finger, 'One Hand Clapping' already primed. He fires, aiming to hit the ninja, centre mass!

Thranduil (592) has posed:
     Thranduil looks up just in time to see a dragon coming down and breathing fire. He brings his arms up to protect himself, not that he expected that to work against dragon fire. This seems to be pure fire, however, not like the napalm-like fire of the dragons of Middle Earth. He throws himself to the ground, singed by the fire and bruised by the rocks.

     Getting to his feet he picks up a rock and hurls it with all his strength and precision, hoping to hit Madara.

Noiela (647) has posed:
A brief, dazzling moment of success as Noiela successfully spares one soldier...amongst many whose smouldering flesh she can barely draw breath without gagging on the cloying stench as she falters, treading air on a beast stunned. For the moment.
Then, it rears up with a high pitched whinny, deaf to its temporary owners entreaty and with one beat of its frazzled feathers soars away from the tower regardless of where the tactician hanging grimly on by a silvery mane wants to head.

Twisting round in her saddle to regard her new passenger, she merely indicates he may want to hold on tight before gritting her teeth and clenching knees. When he does speak she is compelled to reply, "As you order. I'll...try and talk sense into the blasted-" Cue indignant neigh "Fine, just deposit him safely first. Please."

Glimpsing the figure on the ground, the girl manages through alternating between whispered bribes and dire threats to gain the horses compliance long enough to enact a bumpy, skidding landing. The dragon itself does register, but her focus is such she only comprehends it after they have been jostled and nearly tossed clean off.

After this breathless ride she stays a moment before the pawing horse, blistered and flightly in the most literal sense gives another flap of its wings, ready to move away. Where it may ascend.

"Quick! I'll try and support you once I-I sort out whoever is perched atop the tower. Try and land feet first." Helpful.
Compounding its distress is the perfectly oridinary rock, hurled with great force and precision that whizzes past. Nearly clipping the poor horses left ear in the process.

Rising again once Eryl has disembarked, Noiela gradually learns to appreciate the scaly doom up above, craning her neck to view it with a quiet shudder. "Not my fight." She reminds herself. The other had to be dealt with first.

Madara Uchiha (651) has posed:
Madara may not have a spider-sense, but he is very keyed into his surroundings. Too many decades of constant battle, from early childhood, have made his sense for battle inhumanly acute. He picks up on the fact he is about to be attacked seconds before he is, and raises one arm. The armor there provides some protection against the metallic projectile that strikes it, leaving some cracks in the surface, but not much more than that. "What is this pathetic attack-?" Madara starts, his armor and flesh already starting to put itself back together as dust and dirt from the surroundings flow towards it, when he is hit in the back of the head with a thrown rock. His head moves fractionally from the impact as he just stands there for a few seconds, the flames blazing all around him.

Then he turns his head to look over his shoulder at Thranduil, his features cast into shadow - except for those glowing eyes - as he faces away from the light. He does not seem amused. He vanishes from sight suddenly. He's just gone. When he is next noticeable, he is crouched in front of Thranduil, almost on all fours. He pushes himself off the ground with hands and feet, attempting to slam his heel down into the Elf King's head, and then his other heel after that, with superhuman strength, before landing and flickering out of view again, rolling through the air and attempting to kick Eryl once, sharply, right in the gut, with a similar amount of force to that used on Thranduil.

Getting hit with a rock to the back of the head seems to have put the legendary shinobi in a foul mood.

The black dragon has already flown off somewhere, though it may be circling around for another pass as well. It's hard to tell.

Fuki has posed:
    The flames fan out around the towers, lighting up the area. No place for the black armored Shinki to hide now that everything's lit up, but that's no matter. She floats up in place, the fires that shoot up only to serve to make her pose more intimidating as sye holds her scythe with both hands, that smile behind the mask as she awaits her next victim. And lo, and behold... it comes. Watching the mounted one come.

    "I believe he can do it... now... to take care of this one." Fuki waits and smiles, seeing the mounted one's horse float upwards towards the area. "Hehe..." those black wings flare out once more and thrusters kick in, launching the Shinki into a jet black bullet towards Noiela, swinging back her scythe she moves to put power into this, quickly shooting upwards then looping down to use gravity and the boosters to enhance her swing, trying ot bury the blade into Noiela's shoulder, or at least, make enough pain to force a dismount!

Eryl Fairfax has posed:
     Eryl holds tight to the bucking pegasus with his legs, not wanting to fall for a second time today. He keeps one eye on Madara, frowning when he so easily blocked his shot. That wasn't exactly helping his nerves. When they reach the ground, he nods, swiftly dismounting. "Good luck, and be safe."

     Upon landing, (feet first!) he began to rise, only to catch a brutal kick right in the stomach. He is sent flying, sliding on the rough ground on his back, his suit getting shredded by sharp rocks. With a small groan, he gets back to his feet, coughing and speaking clearly.

     "Madara Uchiha. This is a Union-controlled area. You have made your intentions clear, so I will be forced to fight you!" He then looks over at Thranduil and bows his head. "King Thranduil. This battle does not concern you, but I would appreciate your assistance all the same."

     Looking back at Madara, Original Face scans him, noting the odd manner in which his eyes behave. Are they empowered somehow? Well... even if not, it never hurts to try and ruin an opponent's visibility. Rushing forward, arms raised before him in a boxer's stance, Eryl throws a fast punch, turning his whole torso with it, to punch Madara in the face, centred around his left eye!

Noiela (647) has posed:
Out. Get out, her fear is rank and sweaty palmed as the tactician relieves in her minds eye another dragon, whose black and ridged scales were similar yet not this infernal monster. It is this shred of logic- the fact it possessed only two baleful eyes that jolts her awake split seconds before a sharpened scythe attempts to lodge itself in her shoulder. Heeding her mounts alarm, her heels sharply dig into its flank, swerving enough to feel only the deadly tip graze and rip the fabric of her coat apart at the shouldered seams.

"Who the-" Cutting herself off, Noiela grasps her tome and with one surrounded by rippling, luminious text she leans sideways, arm extended to hurl a crackling orb of lightning.

Fuki has posed:
    The thunder rolls through her system, shorting out and sparking the Shinki quite a bit as she falls quite hard down onto the stone barricade that makes up the towers, the tink tink tink of metal hitting ground is heard beyond the raging fires as it looks like that attack may have stunned the Shinki.

    A groan comes out as she picks herself up from the stone, pulling the mask from her face as she looks up, staring at the book-wielding woman in front of her. "A mage, are we?" she scoffs.. "I know how to deal with women like you, casting the spells that are seeking..." a flash comes from the Shinki's body her laser rifle taking view as wisps start to pool out from behind her. "This will be Confederate territory and I'll make sure of that, mage."

    The wisps start glowing a brighter blue as Fuki floats back up into the air before starting to move rapidly, aiming down the sight of her rifle as her internal sensors try to target lock onto Noiela's arm, the one holding the book of lightning... and with a press of the trigger, rapid fire bursts of blue lasers come from the Shinki's wisps and the rifle itself!

Noiela (647) has posed:
Defiantly gripping her book with one hand, Noiela suffers the searing heat with a smothered moan of pain. Her grip fatally loosens on the reins and the animal is left to buck and loop through the sky, knees slowly slipping from their position under the strain.
Frantic to stop the Shinki slamming her one in the gut when exposed, Noiela mutters a singsong rhyme that upon reflection neither rhymnes nor is particularly tuneful, fingers crooking in a shaky point downward.

If she hit, there was a mild chance Fuki would suffer a sudden, unshakable dizziness scrambling her nerve and accuracy with it. Otherwise, there comes another, brief spurt of thunder moments before the girl strives to land without toppling over, gloved hand duly scorched.

Fuki has posed:
    That mild chance is something Fuki doesn't like, the odd magic wracks her systems and freezes up the Shinki's servos causing her to barrel to the ground and crash into the stonework below. The Shinki's body twitches as she tries to move to stand, only to fall back down. "Damnit, I can't do anything like this..." she grumbles, shaking her head as she shuts down her movement programs... "Repair in progres...."

    She looks up, almost helpless as she plots... "You... you think.. this will inconvinence me!" she tries to lift herself back up only to fail once more at this...

Thranduil (592) has posed:
     Thranduil stumbles but isn't badly hurt by the assault, turning around quickly as he draws his other sword, letting his momentum flip back his nearly waist length hair. He has a dangerous look upon his youthful features, pointed brow lowered and indicating he hisn't playing around.

     The King twirls around and makes a quick run at Madara, keeping the edgeof his sword pointed backwards. It works well for making fast attacks.

Madara Uchiha (651) has posed:
Madara has actually turned his attention on Thranduil, a figure he had not expected to be so nimble and skilled. Eryl starts speaking to him, and Madara is either ignoring him or just keeping an eye on the elf. However, he does turn finally, when Eryl attacks. He lifts a hand, intending to knock the incoming fist aside. Many people are familiar with the idea of an 'after-image'. However, Madara's Sharingan allows him to see something like it that precedes an opponent's movements, showing him where they are likely to go. The boxer's stance is observed, not enough of it seen yet to copy. However, Eryl is stronger than he appears and seemingly has calculation capabilities of his own. While Madara is able to defend, the fist actually tears through his wrist, and is only barely kept from punching an eye out by turning his head to the side at the last second with his enhanced reaction time. Even so, the fist leaves a deep gouge and cracked flesh across the side of Madara's head. His left eye is 'torn open', but the blackness inside nearly looks hollow, as does the emptiness that lies in that hole he now has in his face.

No blood spills forth. It's like his skin is made of clay, or the dust that even now moves from the surroundings to fill the holes.

Thranduil charges from behind right then and slashes straight through Madara's back, carving into his armor and the dusty pottery-flesh beneath.

As Eryl is right up close like that, practically in Madara's face, and Madara has just learned that his ally in this battle has suffered some form of immobilization, he decides to return the favor. The cyborg may accidentally make eye-contact with Madara. And if he does, he may suddenly find his control over his own body becoming lax, his body itself heavy and sluggish, his very ability to keep his eyes open slipping away. Sharingan Genjutsu, a generic hypnosis ability cast via eye-contact with an active Sharingan. Subverting a foe's mind and body to by using their own mind and body to achieve it. In this case, he simply attempts to suspend Eryl's conscious control and induce extreme tiredness. It's temporary, if it works.

But whether it succeeds or not, Madara attempts to drive the unexpectedly strong and fast opponent back by trying to seize him by the throat with his intact hand, lift him up off the ground, and throw him towards Thranduil.

"You are mistaken. This is contested territory, and it will soon be the Confederacy's." he finally responds to Eryl. "And your apparently unaffiliated ally will discover the price of opposing me soon enough." Madara puts his hands together in a specific, intricate way, as he begins to focus his Chakra internally. Preparation for some sort of attack, probably!

Noiela (647) has posed:
Noiela hits the ground with a satisfying thump, bringing her knees up to roll, reducing what elbow jarring effect being flung from a rather onery horse with delusions of grandeur-personal opinion trumping facts, to rest at the bottom of the stone edifice where Fuki lies gently twitching from the circuits being thrown into disarray by the highly unpredictable magic that is hexes. Boots crunching the fast cooling earth, the soft scrape of metal being drawn may be picked out admist the growing tide of battle bluster.

"Not for long I warrant, but my goal was not to stop you permanently. Why have you attacked this precise place?" Despite the nerves twitching her sword arm, the pale girl speaks with an odd calm, drawing close to assess the damage and bring down her blade if required; her aim is to disarm by jarring the womans weapon loose, slamming down the reversed hilt of her sword with bruising force into her wrist.
Whether she hits her downed opponent, it sends a not entirely pleasant heat up her own arm, still throbbing minorly from the earlier laser blast and the tactician quietly mutters imprecations that would make a thief blush.

"Please, I'm not in the mood for exchanging dire threats of bodily harm today. Even if Miss Sumias 'dear friend' is taxing my patience."

Eryl Fairfax has posed:
     Original Face can scarcely understand Madara. His body falls apart easily, but he doesn't bleed. Eryl's head begins to ache from the buzzing, but he stands firm.

     At least, until he meets Madara's gaze. Then his limbs begin to go limp, his mind suddenly going blank. Original Face starts scrambling to find a cause, shutting down on the alien impulses, regulating neurotransmitters, but it's not fast for Eryl to snap out of it before begin grabbed and thrown.

     With a loud grunt, he impacts hard against Thranduil, rolling over the elf king before coming to a stop. With a groan, he gets back to his feet and dusts himself. "King Thranduil. Avoid meeting his gaze, if you can. He seems to possess some kind of hypnotic capability."

     Then Eryl is on the move again, rushing at Madara, in a boxing stance again. But just as he draws close, he suddenly sheds his coat and throws it, the cloth acting as a barrier between the two, obscuring their view of each other.

     As it does, Eryl points his right elbow towards Madara. The sleeves of his shirt suddenly shred at the elbow, a large slug erupting out from his arm, piercing through the coat to fly at Madara's midsection!

Thranduil (592) has posed:
     Thranduil is slammed into the ground when Eryl is thrown into him. One of his ornate swords clatters to the ground as he lands unceremoneously in a mass of silver clothes and white hair. With a frustrated huff, he attempts to push Eryl off of him.

     "These dragons are quite different than those of Middle Earth. Are they intelligent?" He gets to his feet and sweeps a hand out to take up his dropped sword. He also takes a rnning start with his swords at the ready, prepared to bring one down upon Madara.

Fuki has posed:
    The effect of slamming such a heavy sword into a six inch tall, robotic assistant's wrist is quite damaging, breaking in facct as the poor wrist is crushed and broken under the weight of that sword's hilt and how hard it was thrust down upon her. Disarming, for sure... However, when you can summon weapons from a pocket dimension, it's almost not that bad as a flash of light erupts around her unbroken arm, a single miniature scythe, a Kama, materializes out of thin air as her movement systems reboot in time.

    Fuki jets between the woman's legs, moving to get back up in a hovering position, daring not to go back for her rifle, not that she could aim it properly anyways. "For reasons beyond your comprehension, sword mage." she retorts, "And dire threats of bodily harm? No, my dear, these aren't threats... I'm going to take your limb from you and I don't care how much it will hurt. Eye for an eye, mage..."

    Fuki rushes back in, weaving around in the air as she tries to lock a target upon the sword mage before her, the sword wielding arm this time, aiming right for the elbow... with a burst from her thrusters, she moves in and swings her kama at the elbow, trying to dig it in to cause the most damage she can. "This Sumia, shall we have the Confederacy focus on her now?"

Noiela (647) has posed:
"I would still welcome an explanation...or could it be you do not know yourself, but simply serve?" Noiela leaps back, startled by the wince inducing light as it summons forth a scythe and fairly stumbles as a light draft is felt at her ankles, coat fluttering in the generated rush of air.

Circling round, the tactician sizes up her foe; the kama slicing neatly through sleeve and flesh to stratch bone scrambles her plans entirely. Jerking her elbow away with a yell, the arm swings bonelessly down to her side to bring on a vision hazed by pain. Sumias name however, brings the world and current threat sharply back into focus.

Fumbling, her uninjured arm crosses over to dip into the pocket on her left, fingertips brushing the potion wedged in there. With a grunt of extertion, her sweat slick fingers manage to grasp and yank out her bottle, an act unbalancing her only mildly; soon righted.

Uncorking it, she gulps rapidly down the healing fluid, its magic closing tears and nulling pain until time can truly restore them.

Fuki has posed:
    Fuki grumbles a bit... "Master is my only concern, mage... I'm going to end you here." she retorts back, eyeing the fluid and going wide eyed as the wounds close before her eyes. "And a healer... Lovely..." she ducks back a bit and looks at her rifle... then back at the wisps behind. She gives a light nod and does the one thing she knows...

    The kama dissapears and she smirks, a shuirken appearing into her hand before being let loosed towards Noiela, only for another one to take its place and thrown in a veritable hail of sharpened tiny bits of flying steel at the sword mage, laser fire from the wisps interspersed with the hail of shuriken raining down on her! "I serve my Master to see him through ascension in the ranks! I do what I can to do it, and if I have to eliminate you to claim this as my own, then so be it!"

Madara Uchiha (651) has posed:
Whatever Madara is preparing, it seems Eryl interrupts it. The coat thrown blocks Madara's vision, and even as he attempts to leap backwards swiftly, the shot plows through his torso, and out the other side. There's now a huge hole straight through him! He has to be dead or at least severely injured now, right? Thranduil's charge, his Elven swiftness and grace, paired with his skill at swordplay, allow him to cleave downwards, splitting Madara's head right down the middle, even! It wasn't even done repairing itself from Eryl's punch!

Well, that is surely the end of it.

Madara falls to the ground, his arms still locked in the same position.

He lies still.

And then a pair of hands emerge from the ground that Eryl and Thranduil stand upon, attempting to grab one of each's ankles. Then a pair of sharp, black, metal rods stab forth attempting to impale the legs of those potentially grabbed. The sensation of mere CONTACT with the metal is a jarring, highly unpleasant one, to say nothing of actual injury. A creepy-crawly sensation like someone else's presence worming their way through Eryl's and/or Thranduil's bodies seems to be inherent to the weapons, as Madara's Chakra is conducted through it.

And the Madara that lies still and injured?

Loses his color, and becomes a shell of wood.

Madara is still injured, it seems, as he rises up out of the ground, regardless of the success of his attack, but he managed to replace himself with a Wood Clone in order to try to throw his foes off the trail. And his eyes are different now. They no longer bear the Sharingan.

They are grey, with black rings radiating outwards from the centers of each.

Rinnegan.

Noiela (647) has posed:
Noiela grits her teeth and bears the brunt of the shrapnel hail with a coat tattered and wounds just sealed rudely reopened. What can be glimpsed beneath the ribboned clothes is fast blossoming in bright scarlet. White on red, staining beige a rusty brown.

"Mother, I..." Outside forgotten by all except itself, the horse whinnies. Awakening in Noielas brain an idea, that seems a painfully long shot and probably will earn her the angry scorn of one clumsy pegasus rider for many weeks thereafter. However, she has little time to ruminate on the dangers, pursing her lips to emit a piercing whistle used by knights-just Sumia- as a means to summons forth a charger within earshot. One specific charger.

Snorting loudly from where it restlessly turns outside, the pegasus stiffens upon the echoed shriek, ears rigid and neck arched. The noise of thundering hooves coincides with another venture by the tactician; since she cannot wield both tome and sword to cast, the metal length would serve as her conduit instead.
Flexing her grip, blue sparks runs down its hilt and fizzle excitedly. A single step back, pause and leap, sword thrust out. Angling for the chestplate, bringing round her leatherbound tome with a backhanded swing to clobber.

Eryl Fairfax has posed:
     Eryl has learned his lesson from Gaius well. Just because it looks like your opponent might be out, they're not. He stays well clear of the broken husk, remaining ready for any attack that might come from it, eyes flicking around to make sure no surprise attacks come from the side.

     But, Original Face lacks x-ray vision, so he was not ready for a subterranean attacks, and so is grabbed! With a CRUNCH, his robotic legs are penetrated by the strange black rods, making Eryl shudder as his body is invaded by foreign energies. He slumps to his knees and retches, his whole body rejecting it.

     It's happening again. He's losing. For a moment, he wants to just feign unconsciousness, to avoid the entire humiliating exercise. But that would mean leaving Thranduil to his fate. He might win, but he might not.

     But, Eryl won't let him face that alone. He forces himself back to his feet, staring hard at Madara, Original Face noting the change in his eyes.

     Then his pants get shredded around the thighs, several small spheres launching themselves towards Madara, their flight accelerated further by small rockets. Upon impact, they explode violently!

Fuki has posed:
    Fuki grumbles, panting hard despite being an artificial being, she takes back to the sky and winces at the shrill whistle coming from the sword mage. "What is she..." she turns around and suddenly, blade meets chestplate and the bundle of lightning energy wracks her body and the tome smash sends her flying into the stone pillar that makes up the tower, a relatively massive hole in her armor and electronic circuits are exposed to view, causing the Shinki's 'breath' to quicken.

    Something must be done about this sword mage and quickly... "I see mentioning attacking Sumia picked up your bravado there, sword mage...." she taunts, bringing her scythe out to bear once more. Holding it in one hand she starts to spin it quickly, a small grin upon her face.

    It's not long after she uses the wall to her advantage, kicking off it with the scythe still spinning, a sickly green now splashing out of it, her acidic scythe in plain view now. The acid splashes start to sizzle on the stonework as the Shinki moves to try cutting deep into one of the tactician's arms, hoping to use this to disarm her.

Noiela (647) has posed:
"Do not utter her name." Noiela murmurs, tone disarmingly even and her set jaw barely grinds upon the whoosh and splatter of acid upon her sleeve, leaving two ragged holes in the material. Raising one hand, she gingerly flexes her fingers to let the sword clatter and hit the ground, having barely jumped away from Fukis murderous trajectory.

The sound of hooves gain in volume.

Although battle is raging, perhaps the keen eye might spot peeking through the ruined tatters of her raised and gloved hand patterns. A brand, darkly bruised lines standing out against her white skin to form a winged shaped mass studded with several drawn eyes.

Immaterial, in light of the luminious stream of energy flooding up to encircle her fingertips, instructable cipher rippling outwards as she sends a pure bolt of magical fury out, aimed dead straight at the Shiniki.

Just as it happens, the instant a flurry of hooves, chomping teeth and bad temper descends righteously upon Fuki.

A pincer attack. How sporting.

Fuki has posed:
    Finally, something that sets the woman off... "Sumia." she retorts, knownig the reaction that'll come out of it. She watches the sword fall and the eyes watch, and a picture is snapped of the odd tattoo.. "That's it, bring out your rage..." suddenly, the sound of hooves and then angry pegasus stomping and chomping at the bit to ruin Fuki's day is there... then the blast of Thunder magic erupts and leaves the area covered in dust and debris and.... silence.

    It would seem that time may have stood still for the Shinki and possibly Noiela, the dust slowly settling until only a motionless Shinki is seen at the settling. It stays this way for a good thirty seconds before a dark laugh comes from the tiny robot. Something is pulled out of the Shinki's armor, or what was left of it, the armor falling apart as the Fubuki model picks herself back up holding what looks to be a suit like thing.

    In a sudden poof, Fuki's covered in what looks to be a black helmet and black turtle like shell upon her back, sporting hammers on her legs and one in her hand. "When you have a hammer... everything looks like a nail!" She starts to run towards the tactician, throwing the hammer in a wide arc at her only to have one magically replace itself to throw again. She throws a few behind her at the pegasus to get it off her tail in a distraction attempt... and these hammers, despite the size, will probably hurt like hell...

Madara Uchiha (651) has posed:
Once Madara is above ground again, Thranduil for the moment out of the way after his injury, he faces off against Eryl once more, with these new eyes. Do they also have hypnotic abilities? It probably does not matter, because there is no way Eryl is going to fall for that again. The spheres he launches strike Madara, blasting away chunks of his body, and leaving a dust cloud when they finish. Only one of them misses, and it detonates a short distance behind.

Suddenly, Eryl may experience the sensation as weightlessness. As though gravity has simply ceased to apply to him. And if so, what follows is that he is pulled towards the dust cloud irresistibly, right onto another one of those black metal rods, like the first one that snapped off after Eryl got free of it - this one aimed for his chest. Madara speaks to Eryl as the dust clears, either way. "Interesting tricks. A weaponized body... Like the Human Path of the Rinnegan. Unfortunate that power is presently unavailable to me. Copying your weapons would no doubt be useful."

Then he snaps off that Chakra Receiver rod too, and settles into a fighting stance of his own. "What else can you do? Show me!" His body is still repairing itself from those explosions - even some of the other damage suffered! How is he still so eager to battle in his condition? Does he honestly feel no pain? How do you stop a foe like this!?

Noiela (647) has posed:
Intent on her target and getting the final slam in to smash apart the mechanical warrior, Noiela tastes her fury and revels in it. Deep inside her a stirring, gratified and savouring the first tremulous sparks of her personal rage like poison reducing the cautionary logic; corrosive to any tactician worth their salt.

So it is easy, almost childs play to catch her off guard; taking the full blow to her tender ribs, wrangling a wet gurgling cry as the hammer pounds her hard and sends her reeling back into one crumpled heap.

Meanwhile Sumia would be both proud and horrified to see her faithful friend continue on steadfastly, kicking spiritedly out and raising dust under the first and second hammer blow. Third, it buckles panting and bruised, wings gently buffeting the air.

From her prone position, it is this that gets Noiela scrambling to her feet, mingled guilt and injured pride. Oaths, so soon shattered. Tattered sleeve dangling, the girl hurtles forward with another arching blast to fry the robot, pulse pounding heavily in her ears.

Distantly, she can hear the sound of hissed laughter through a lipless mouth.

Eryl Fairfax has posed:
     Eryl stares, getting more and more frustrated with himself when one of the rockets sail wide. He's BETTER than this! How is he losing so badly? Looking around, it seems that the elf king has abandoned him. Great. So much for that.

     But then suddenly, gravity. Or rather, the lack of it. Original Face screams at him to stop hallucinating, loud enough to make Eryl clutch his head, squeeze his eyes shut and take the chakra rod right through him. His torso actually bleeds, unlike his injured legs, his senses going a little blurry as his implants struggle to help cope with the sudden loss of blood and oxygen.

     When the gravity comes back, and Madara starts showing off, demanding more, Eryl just thuds limply to the ground, feet pointing at Madara. Again, that temptation to feign unconsciousness rears its ugly head. He is likely to lose here anyway; he may as well spare himself some pain. But, he considers everyone in the Union. They would certainly be disappointed in him that he failed to defend another target zone, as would he... but he would feel even worse knowing he didn't give it his all. How could he show his face again?

     Groaning, he starts to sit up, lifting his right foot slightly, pointing a finger at Madara. "I'll show you what I have..." Then suddenly, a shot... from his foot, out the heel! It shreds his sock and shoe, a huge heavy slug accelerating at the ninja, exploding on impact with far more force that the last, small ones!

Madara Uchiha (651) has posed:
Madara reaches a hand up to attempt to halt the projectile in mid-air with those gravity powers of his. His smile turns into a frown when it doesn't work. The slug hits his hand, and explodes. His body is ripped apart, the projectile tearing up his arm, and into his shoulder even before it explodes. There's a smoking crater after the shockwave blasts outwards, and no sign of Madara.

Seems Fuki is now alone on the battlefield.

Oops?

There's no trick this time when the disappointment hits. Just the impossible.

Dust and debris begin to gather from the environment once more. They gather, and they rebuild his body, starting at his feet, then his legs, then his torso and arms, and finally his head. It takes at least twenty seconds, but at the end of it, he is whole and intact - or so it seems. That was a much slower reconstruction time than previously. But the fact remains, he is still on the battlefield, and still able to fight.

"I see. There's a delay between uses of the Deva Path, where its power flows out of me..." the shinobi muses. "That's good to know." Then he flashes through handseals and says, "My turn." <<Katon: Goukakyuu no Jutsu! (Fire Release: Great Fireball Technique!)>>

Then he breathes out a powerful sphere of flame, at least twice as big as Madara himself. Much like Eryl's attack, it explodes on impact.

Fuki has posed:
    Warning signs flare up in her display, alarms blaring in her ears and the crackle of electricity making even more sensors go off the charts, Fuki knew something had to be done and quick or she would not last this fight, more so, not able to report back to her Master and Souji.

    The gout of thunderous energy crackles all around her and, possibly thanks to the power suit she borrowed from Sarracenia, she would have been fried, but all that is left of Fuki is a suit-less, armorless, smouldering Shinki with arcs of energy spewing off her battered and broken body. "I... just got this body yesterday! How DARE you wreck it already!"

    Fuki's body twitches as ahe stands up, the lingering electric charge screwing with her servos and circuits. As soon as the Shinki is steady once more, she decides to do one thing, use the built up electric charge... and detonate it. Despite sparks flying from her flight pack, she takea to the sky and rushes in, moving to cling close to Noiela's chest.

    "This... ends ... here!" she shouts as more warning signs blast forth, a mass energy discharge comes from the Shinki... all of the electrical power built up from those frequent lightning attacks and most of her internal battery, jn an attempt to commit a massive electrical shock towarss the mage.

Eryl Fairfax has posed:
     Eryl stares at the place where Madara used to be, and for a moment, he is genuinely scared that he had just killed Madara. Eryl doesn't like having to take a life, even the life of an absolutely arrogant jerk. But then, dust begins to meld together, and underneath the pain of Original Face reacting to that, Eryl feels a mix of relief and frustration.

     "What are you?" he asks the ninja before him, face starting to fall, a look of despair on his face. A look that is replaced by shock at the sudden mass of fire rushing at him. Eryl throws himself to the side, avoiding most of the main mass, but the following explosion catches him, throwing him against some rocks, knocking the wind from him.

     "Ugh..." he groans, getting back to his feet. The knock had rattled his head a little, and mingled with the pain and frustration, well. Original Face is being ignored right now, in favour of the rush of fury and adrenaline that is coursing through him.

     Taking advantage of the dust and smoke kicked up by the fireball, he gets close before leaping over Madara, landing behind him! He wraps his arms around the ninja's arms and chest, before launching himself and Madara back.

     Off the edge of a cliff.

     "DAMN YOOOOOOOOOOOOOU!" he screams on the way down, his legs wrapping around Madara's as they plummet, heads first, towards the ground below.

Noiela (647) has posed:
An unseasonable grin plaster Noielas face upon viewing the destruction she has wrought. Disquieting, as though it did not quite fit the regular planes of her face. It seems...reptilian.

Her eyes widen upon the surging waves of crackling electrical power and there is no resistance. Not time.

Back she falls, tang of spent ozone curdling the nostrils, entire outfit cut to ribbons that hang limp on her exposed navel and chest as it rises. Where her clothes reveal, stratches and burns render a trail of bruises, blurring partial nudity into sootily smeared flesh; ribcage indistinct in texture from arm or splayed legs.

Suddenly she jerks, bringing up a wad of bloody mucus like a twitching marionette brought back to life. Getting to her feet, her hair streaked with sodden pink and visage borderline demonic in pure, unadulterated hatred. Possibly a mere delusion of the light and generously fine mist of blood spotting the girl, that her eyes gleam with a reddened sheen.

"Despair."
Spat out, her fingers begin to twitch, bright coils of lightning threading their way between them. Along the line, she has kept a tight grip on her tome and it too hangs, loose pages caught by the growing zephyr that roars around their immediate vicinity.

Out she flings a hand, sending her power straight for the stubborn little robot doll who refuses to lie down and be a smouldering heap of scrap.

Madara Uchiha (651) has posed:
Eryl's speed, strength, determination, and skill allow him to get in close while Madara is still unable to see his opponent, wrap around him and leap from the mountain that the still-burning Grey Citadel rests upon. It's a shame he didn't have his Sharingan active. He would have liked to have copies this Taijutsu maneuver, even if it is an unconventional one. It reminds him of something that a wielder of the Eight Gates might use...

Then he is slammed into the ash-strewn ground below, REALLY hard. Hard enough to form a crater, and send a spider-web of cracks outwards through the ground around the impact point. Eryl presumably is able to save himself from the same fate (or not). But even a Madara's lower body sticks up out of the ground in a manner that would be almost comical in another situation, the beat of vast leathery wings may start to impinge on Eryl's awareness in the aftermath. Ashes stir and whips up into the air, as small whirlwinds form. The sound of a bestial grown echoes throughout the canyon.

The noise of wing beasts becomes nearly defeaning. And then the dragon lands with an earth-shaking impact, sharp talons digging into blackened rock - some volcanic, some charred by OTHER flames. The dragon glares down at Eryl and Madara, its hot, sulfuric breath washing over the pair as its gleaming yellow eyes light up the darkness around its head marginally less than the flames that flicker from its gullet and nostrils.

Its reptillian eyes, have an odd look to them. The slit-pupil that should be there is shrunk down to a fraction of its normal size, and surrounding it is the design of the Sharingan.

It's still under Madara's control. Madara chooses that moment to push himself up out of the rich, volcanic soil with both hands, flips through the air, and slam his hand palm down on the ground. A network of lines expands outwards from where he touches, and then smoke erupts from it. When the smoke clears, Madara is holding a war fan - known as a gunbai - with a chain at the hilt. He pulls it back behind him.

The dragon unleashes its white-hot firey breath at point blank range, upon both Eryl AND Madara. Isn't it under the ninja's control!?

His eyes are Sharingan once more, so it seems so. He IS pretty durable. Maybe he is willing to take the hit?

As the flames wash over the pair - unless Eryl can defend himself somehow - Madara times his swing perfectly, and strikes the flames with the flat of the fan.

The flames rebound, at an intensity equal to what they were released at by the dragon. And if Eryl is still inbetween Madara and the dragon, it's essentially getting hit with the dragon's breath twice, as it blasts outwards in a huge wave of energy that skeletonizes the dragon's face, leaving it to fall to the ground, dead and missing its skin from the skull down to half way along its next.

But what condition is Eryl in!?

Fuki has posed:
    Fuki lets out a pained scream as the lightning once again wracks her body and fries more circuits inside, but the little Shinki still hangs on, bits and peices falling off of her, even most of her base paint job is destroyed too, showing the flesh toned plastic and metal under it, charred black in places but Fuki still refuses to lay down, broken.

    "A... one trick woman with lightning. That is all you are. Lightning and deep seeded hatred. A... waste of ta..talent." she scoffs, floating upwards unsteadily as more parts fall off the Shinki.

    A flash once more, her kama in view again. She is done talking, the thrusters flare up one last time, aiming towards Noiela's neck, ahe is going to end it and the best way? A clean slice along the neck...

Eryl Fairfax has posed:
     When they hit the ground, Eryl throws himself away from Madara with pinpoint timing, letting the ninja take the impact of the landing, which slows Eryl enough to fall and roll safely, avoiding damage. Slowly, he gets back to his feet, looking at the utterly planted Madara.

     "Is that it?..." Nope. Dragon. Eryl honestly forgot about it, the scaly beast landing before him. Now, to his credit, he is ready to fight it, pointing a finger and preparing a shot. But then Madara gets back up, and all the fight just leaves Eryl. He stands there, curling his hands into fists, and looking defiantly at the fiery pair.

     When the dragon starts to breathe fire, Eryl starts dashing towards Madara, either to attack regardless of the flames or to try and use him as a shield. But then Madara waves that strange fan, and Eryl takes the full brunt. When they clear, he's still standing for a moment. Clothes utterly scorched, false skin on his arms and legs gone, revealing the true nature of his limbs, hair patchy and smouldering.

     And then finally, he falls backwards, defeated again.

Noiela (647) has posed:
Lightly does Fuki's kama score the neck, leaving a vigorious trickle of blood to further soak the panting, enraged tactician. It mingles with the sweat, painting her skin in blotches of drying gore.

Swiping the air, fingers humming with visible energy reach out to grasp the husk; now she is almost burnt out, her weight is neglible to muscles rarely worked this hard and unforgivingly.

"Hatred...you know little of hatred and resentment. I-" Pausing, echo of sanity altering her murderous, taut expression. "No. I will accept your point, mechanical being. But this conversation is over. For now." If successful she would enclose charged fingers where the throat of the Shiniki might be located in the partially ruined, melted lump and squeezes.
"Eye for an eye, was it?" Pouring every last ounce of her faltering stamina into choking the little beast; to observe the components that make up Fuki splinter and fall apart would give her a guilty pleasure along with a pronounced wince. Her mark has begun to itch, rashlike burning.

Fuki has posed:
    "I know hatred, mage." she responds in kind, a grin upon her battered head and body, almost making it away... almost. That charged grab gripping her body tightly, the crushing feeling wrapping around her, the choke point in her neck... the pressure and structural failures her body was put through.... finally fail, the Shinki's body making an audible crack and soon falling apart.

Madara Uchiha (651) has posed:
"Hmph," Madara lets out as he looks upon his foe. "You are tenacious, if nothing else. If you wind up surviving, you have earned a rematch." Madara turns away from the dragon corpse and the fallen foe, and looks up towards the mountain he feel off of, part of his head still regenerating. He puts his hands and his hips, and just says down there for a little while. "Now then, let's see who else up there is still able to dance." In literally the blink of an eye, his Sharingan change to yet another design. A more complex version of the normal Sharingan...

And a more powerful version...

The Mangekyou Sharingan.

Noiela and Fuki exchange hateful words, draw blood, crush metal, are determined to keep struggling until the terrible, bitter end.

And the end comes.

There is a period of relative quiet, given that the roar of the flames still surrounds on all sides, there are still dragons everywhere, and so on.

But a sound that was distant to those up on top of the mountain, but has gradually been growing in volume, becomes much more noticeable.

Boom.

No leathery wings this time.

Boom!

Just the methodical impact of some great force, slamming into the side of the cliff, and gradually growing closer.

BOOM!

Eventually, there is a blue light glowing up over the edge of the cliff, and moments later, a giant hand and forearm rise up over it, made of pure energy. The hand comes down hard, grabbing holding of the cliff and crumbling the rock in its grasp. That hand drags the rest of its owner upwards. A giant head of blue Chakra, with a pair of brilliantly-glowing circles for eyes, in a face with a chin that bears a pair of spiked protrusions, and a mouth with two tusk-like fangs arcing up from the lower jaw. The giant's second hand rises up and puts its hand down on the battlefield, smothering some of the dragon fire and cratering the terrain beneath its weight and strength.

It brings its left foot up and plants it on the edge of the cliff, and then it rises to its full fifty-foot height. Floating in the center of the Susano'o's chest is Madara Uchiha. The Susano'o towers over the battlefield.

Madara gazes upon Noiela, holding the crumpled body of Fuki, and shows no sign of emotion or sympathy for either the girl on her last legs, or his fallen ally. Both of them tried so hard, push themselves to their limits and beyond. Such bravery - or perhaps simply such vitriolic hatred. It's evidence in support of Madara's perception of reality. Hatred is endemic to war, and war is endemic to reality itself. There can be no peace as long as this reality remains dominant.

And until he has the means to make this reality into a different one, he shall drive that truth about how inherently flawed the world is into others. He will use the darkness in their hearts, and if there is none, he will create it.

The ones before him seem to possess darkness already.

But that doesn't make them safe.

"You are still too weak," Madara begins. "Because your hatred is not strong enough. And you know what else?" A giant sword of blazing Chakra forms in one of the Susano'o's hands. The giant lifts it over its head. Madara smirks condescendingly when he finishes, "It never will be."

The blade comes down, unleashing a shockwave that tears the earth apart.

Noiela (647) has posed:
Realisation, spreading like wildfire and chasing pure bewilderment as the girl begins to awaken, fell influence retreating. It is not tangible enough a scent to be sniffed out by the casual entity with inhuman senses, merely lingering a time, leaving the sour taste of frustrated malice.

"I...where am-you..." Her rasp becomes a mumble "My head..." Pitching indelicately forward, wholly herself again. Defeated self, squawking radio tumbling out her pocket.

Out for the count.