999999/A Walk in the Woods

A Walk in the Woods
Date of Scene:	11 July 2014
Location:	The Forest Path
Synopsis:	While delivering supplies to a remote village in the Great Forest, Bedivere happens across Kagenashi, who turns out to be far more than he had bargained for. The two speak, but the conversation is unsettling, and far more than Bedivere had bargained for...
Thanks to:	Huge thanks to Kagenashi, for being a terrible person. <3
Cast of Characters:	85, 482

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Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
Here in the Multiverse, there are woods that defy the imagination and the ability to grasp such sheer scale and space. In this sector, there are colossal trees stretch skyward, dwarfing even the greatest of redwoods. Their branches spread and cast a canopy of cool green-gold on the world below. Sun dapples the path and undergrowth, and the light has a hazy, almost dreamlike quality to it; gold, in the air of summer. The temperature is still cool for the early hour, and mist still hovers over the ground.

There are people who make their homes in these woods, but times have been hard. In this area, the spring had been unseasonably wet, and carefully-tended crops had rotted in the ground. Floods had destroyed infrastructure; ruined earth, and taken lives. If that hadn't been harsh enough, summer had begun hard and fast, then, bearing down on the unfortunate folk of this area with its heat and its dry. Today is one of the first temperate days they've had since the end of winter. Food stores are almost depleted, and while new crops have been planted, they won't feed the people now.

As this area is technically under Union territory, the faction had agreed to send aid to the beleaguered village. Although the war takes many lives and destroys many towns, there are still many places like this that suffer at the whims of Multiversal weather -- perhaps they aren't spoken about as much, and perhaps it isn't as sympathy-inducing to some as photos of suffering war orphans, but these people are deserving of no less help.

Thus it is that Sir Bedivere of the Round Table has taken it upon himself to bring supplies to this place. Although an official expedition is not yet scheduled, thanks to the machinations of politics and protocol, he has nonetheless taken it upon himself to bring some kind of relief to the hungry and struggling village.

(A note would have been fixed to the door of his guest room, perhaps stuck through the door by way of a dagger, much to the consternation of the mistress of the house, explaining to Saber where her loyal servant had gone. Perhaps he is compelled to serve her, but he could never stop striving to do charitable works.)

The knight wears his customary plate mail today; pauldrons, cuirass, and faulds, along with a waistcloth of blue, greaves, and sabatons. Unlike many of his brothers-in-arms of the Round Table, his armour is plain, and the only touch of ornamentation he bears is the colour of the waistcloth, or the blue of his cloak's mantle -- a symbol of his direct service to the king. Or, perhaps the cross that dangles from the clasp of his cloak. At his hip is a plain-looking longsword in a plain-looking sheath, though it could perhaps be a two-handed blade, as well -- it seems uncommonly long.

Bedivere himself is perhaps not what most would think of when they think of a stout Knight of the Round. His features are soft, and many have outright mistaken him for a woman, despite the breadth of his shoulders and the lines of his jaw; his calm, stoic nature and his gentle voice have done nothing to hurt this image; nor his long, fine hair, so pale a blonde it seems almost silvery, drawn back into artful braids and gathered into a single loose horsetail about halfway down, held together with a brass clasp.

None can question his dedication to service, though. He walks determinedly along the forest path, violet eyes fixed straight ahead, leading a single tired packhorse laden with goods -- mostly food and clothing, but there are also medical supplies, as well.

Easy pickings, perhaps, to the opportunistic Confederate -- for there is an addition to the stitching on his heavy cloak, across the back; the sigil of the Union, picked out in grey thread against the white.

Kagenashi (85) has posed:
Kagenashi's curious wanderings bring her to many places and end her up in many situations, and today appears to be no different. The nogitsune had heard of troublesome circumstances in this area, and simply out of curiosity she came to investigate. No real plan or motive drives her, just the possibility of something interesting in this beaten and troubled area. She is fully prepared to return home if nothing of note crops up, but thankfully, it seems she won't have to resort to that.

The woman slips through the high branches, barely making a sound or rustling the foliage beyond what could pass for the wind or a wandering animal. No shadow breaks the sunlight that weaves through the leaves, either; even her shadow is fully under Kagenashi's control, as Munashi slips silently behind her, bounding from branch to branch with such lightness that one must wonder if the shadow fox even holds any weight. With every aspect of her form perfectly controlled, Kagenashi may as well not even be there, unless a keen eye knows where to make out the dark red shape moving through the trees.

She has come armed, too, just in case such things are needed. Her katanas remain bound to her forearms, their bladed sheaths directed outward as weapons of their own. On her back, tucked under her obi, is the beautiful scarlet form of cursed Nageki, the white tail on its pommel fluttering gently in the breeze. No doubt even more weapons lie hidden in her clothing, obscured so as to take her opponent off guard when she produces them.

The nogitsune comes to a halt when she hears the telltale clopping and rustling of a packhorse moving down the path. Frozen into perfect stillness, she listens for where it may be, then turns her head just enough so that her sight can pinpoint the horse and its leader too. Simple armor, a mundane weapon, the mark of the Union; a standard footsoldier, perhaps, sent to offer aid to the faction's allies?

Kagenashi vanishes, and when she next appears several moments later, it so happens to be right on that path, several yards in front of Bedivere. Empty space fades into her crimson form, one hand on her hip and the other arm lowered to her side. Her head tilts slightly in vulpine curiosity as her serene voice echoes behind her mask. "What is this? Supplies sent wandering all alone through the forest? That cannot be terribly safe, particularly in these dangerous times."

Munashi slips in from the shadow of a tree, striding casually over to Kagenashi's side. The fox's silver eyes remain fixed on Bedivere as her tail sways back and forth.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
The horse stops so suddenly that even Bedivere startles, violet eyes widening for just an instant at the sudden appearance of a traveller on the path. His senses had always been keen, his perceptions razor-sharp within the courtly intrigues of Camelot. They had needed to be, to survive the political intrigue; that he might continue to carry out the work that Arturia could not... but...

It's rare that his eyes fail him, but he can see no evidence of where this woman had come from, or how she's come to be there. Bedivere frowns, very faintly. Perhaps she is a witch of some form. Surely she must be, for foxes are skittish creatures, and would never suffer human company so willingly.

He does not so much as move, arms loose at his sides, one hand gripping the horse's lead rein, but there is a subtle tension in his posture that suggest he is not at ease.

Bedivere's head tilts faintly as he regards Kagenashi through hooded eyes; the perfect picture of calm and confidence.

Although the knight could be mistaken for a woman, the voice that speaks is undeniably a man's, though the tones are hushed and gentle, soft; almost feminine.

"Forgive me. I did not see you approaching." Still, every word is well-enunciated; eloquent. Very slightly, his head tilts, regarding the nogitsune calmly. "Truly, your concern is touching, but unnecessary. I am armed, and any mischief you mayintend would be ill-advised." His tone remains deceptively patient, gentle. "These supplies are meant for the village yonder. I intend to deliver them there."

Those violet eyes settle on Kagenashi, directly, and though his regard is mild, there's a hint of steel.

"Continue on your way, creature," he says evenly, with no visible fear. "I am on a mission of peace and I do not wish to bare steel this morn. I know your face, and I know that you are of the Confederacy. I will let you pass, if you do not trouble me."

Either he's a brave fool, or he's a good actor. With a cluck of his tongue, he starts his packhorse forward again, but the animal seems disinclined to approach Kagenashi, digging in its hooves.

Bedivere sighs, reaching up to pat the animal's neck, glancing over to Kagenashi.

"Please move aside."

Kagenashi (85) has posed:
"Oh, I suppose I have developed a reputation already, have I not?" Kagenashi gives a vague shrug, crossing one arm over her body so that she may support her other elbow as her fingers alight on her mask's cheek. Lightly they drum along the mask's fine material, thoughtful and wondering. "Unfortunate, then, that you know my face and I do not know yours. Has the Union gained a new ally that I have not heard of? Your dress suggests that you are from some Earthen land, though...not a very advanced one, is it?"

Kagenashi is not a very tall woman. Perhaps by the standards of her world, but she often finds herself looking up at those she meets in the Multiverse. Bedivere is no exception, as he is at least half a foot taller than she; adding onto that the fact that he wears heavy plate mail and the most she has is complicated cloth of dubious covering, and most would expect her to be stepping aside right now.

But she doesn't. Indeed, the reluctance of the horse to come anywhere near her only draws a soft sound of amusement from the masked woman. "Well, it seems you have met an unfortunate blockade in your quest. A stubborn one, too; I am not sure such an obstruction can be moved without significant force. What a troublesome development to your day."

Kagenashi begins a slow stride, steadily approaching the knight with graceful elegance, each step taken with a light sway of her hips and a gentle touch of the balls of her feet to the road. "You are not really in a position to be making requests. I think I will have to make one, then. You will draw your sword against me, and we will determine how your quest will continue. If you can best me, then you may proceed freely to deliver your supplies. If you fail...well, we will see what I decide then, I suppose."

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
"Yes." Bedivere tilts his head in acknowledgement, eyes closing briefly. The gesture is one of calm. "I would say that you have."

When he straightens, those violet eyes are studying the nogitsune carefully -- of course, her style of dress is embarrassing and not at all suitable to a lady of high stature, but no; he's studying her with the eye of a tactician. What weapons does she carry? What would her style of combat be, should she decide to cause trouble?

Still, he offers a formal bow, one arm tucked against his stomach, pale hair momentarily hiding his face.

"I am Sir Bedivere of the Round Table, and though I hail from Camelot, I serve now the Union in all endeavours. Peaceable endeavours, where I can," he adds, gently but firmly.

It's obvious by this point that being diplomatic isn't going to work very well. Kagenashi has something of a reputation among his more upstanding allies. Apparently it's his lucky day to find out that she is in fact kind of a terrible person. With an expression that can only be mild disappointment, he turns to lead the packhorse off the path, tying the animal to a tree well out of the way of what is sure to be a fight.

"So." As he returns, his plate mail clatters quietly as he slows to a halt where he had been standing. Those violet eyes settle on Kagenashi, wary. "Perhaps not. But what if I choose not to bare steel? What then will you do, milady?"

He folds his arms, stoic and unmoveable as a boulder.

"These supplies will keep for a few more hours, by my estimation. And I am a patient man." Those eyes settle on her, placid, despite an undercurrent of tension. He really doesn't want to fight, does he? His head cocks faintly to one side. "Tell me. Why do you waylay me...?"

Kagenashi (85) has posed:
At least she has /some/ politeness. Kagenashi returns the bow when it's offered, though hers is of the Asian variety, lowering her hands to her legs and bowing at the waist. "Sir Bedivere. A pleasure, I am sure." Her arms lift once more to cross over her chest when she straightens, the bladed edges of her sheaths facing outwards.

She stops her stride once Bedivere begins to move away, watching as he moves aside to tie the packhorse in a safe place, then returns. Not once does her masked stare leave him while he moves. Even when he questions her rather than going straight to the fight, his stubbornness and patience clearly a match for her own, she remains undisturbed.

"If you choose not to? Well, I can be very persuasive." She lifts a hand to her mask again, fingertips drumming along her chin as she finally looks aside to the horse. "For instance, from this distance I could likely strike down your horse in an instant without moving from my spot. You would then be unable to carry your supplies without great difficulty, and in this isolated region, I am not sure how easy it would be to call for assistance." She looks back at him, then, lifting her fingers from her chin in a vague gesture. "Or I could move along the path to that village you are approaching, and who could say what sort of havoc could befall it then, or whether you could catch up to me in time? Or, quite simply, I could strike you until you were forced to defend yourself or fall where you stand. There are quite a lot of things I could do, really." The woman offers a brief shrug, her tone still as calm and casual as ever. "I am not saying I would slaughter people over a simple duel. But I have plenty of options before me, undoubtedly, and I too am patient."

Her head tilts slightly to the other side, pondering him for a moment longer. "The Union and the Confederacy are at war. Do I truly need a reason to harass a member of that faction? Besides, I am curious, and I wish for my curiosity to be satisfied. If I wish for something, no matter how small or fleeting, I obtain it. It is quite simple, really. At least be pleased that you were not greeted by many of my other colleagues; I believe several others would be less willing to debate this matter with you, and your blood would be cast upon the road right now."

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
Although he stands straight and tall, the knight dips his chin as the nogitsune delivers her hypothetical threats. Something in those violet eyes darkens, and when she dares to imply that the safety of the villagers may be in question, something hard creeps into his expression, something almost approaching anger. His hands close into fists, the steel-plated gauntlets clanking quietly. With visible effort, he releases them, reaching down.

His nameless sword draws free from its sheath with a whisper of well-oiled steel against leather and wood. He alone among the Knights of the Round bore no named weapon, and he alone was content with that, in spite of Mordred's reminders. Its craftsmanship is superior, though it bears no ornamentation -- though hardly ugly, it is a plain weapon, scarred from battle. Its design matches a longsword, but the blade is easily half a foot longer than most of its style, despite a lack of thickness in the blade. It's clearly meant to work with his height and strength, lending him extra reach.

"I will suffer many things, but I will not suffer the absuse of these innocent people for your own whims. So. It is to be a duel, then." He sighs, as though genuinely disappointed and regretful. Despite his ideals, he hardly seems naive. Obviously he knows some of her nature, and more than likely expects her to behave anything but fairly, given her ultimatum.

The blade is whirled, flashing in the sun, raised until he can adopt a defensive two-handed stance with it. Although shorter than a true two-handed blade, that is where he differed from his brothers in Camelot -- his blade was versatile, acting as one-handed blade, two-handed blade, and shield alike.

"Very well. I have no desire for battle, but I see that you leave me no choice. Let us end this quickly."

Kagenashi (85) has posed:
"Ah, that is good. I am truly pleased that you do not force me to such methods." Her arms drop to her sides, then, and Munashi rises from her seat to pad over to the side of the road. Unlike Bedivere, Kagenashi does not draw her weapons yet. As he takes a defensive stance, she is busy contemplating her options. Well-made though her own swords are, their thinner blades aren't made for dealing with heavy armor. Nageki would be able to do so, but that would first require that the sword have at least some blood to drink, which means that she would still have to find a way around that armor.

It's a good thing she has several other hidden options, then.

"I will say that this is an interesting change," the nogitsune remarks, lifting her arm as if to regard the bladed sheath bound to it. "I have started growing accustomed to having people almost stumbling over themselves to cause me harm. And yet there you stand, provoked to battle, and you wait for me to make the first move. You truly do not wish to fight, do you?"

Suddenly, the fingers of her raised arm flick toward him. A purple-black tendril of energy rushes out from her hand like a bruise on the world, aimed to lash against the side of his neck like a whip. It causes no physical wounds, however, for it is malevolence given form: the willingness to cause harm for selfish desires, the lack of compassion for those around her. It strikes at the heart and soul, as if Kagenashi could simply /will/ someone to suffer.

The tendril only lashes out for a second before dissolving in midair. "I wonder what it would take to make you eager to strike out."

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
Although he listens to her in dubious silence, he has his doubts that she feels any true pleasure at avoiding calamity. Something in her bearing suggests to him that she enjoys doing things just for the sake of seeing what might happen, especially if they might have harmful or unexpected consequences. He has seen that like before, and he has never borne any love for such methods or outlooks.

He always was a true defender of the people -- the real people, not the pretenders in the courts, the nobility that had always had everything handed to him. He was not only commoner in his own court, but his pale hair and his strange eyes marked him as Dál Riata; descended of foreign blood. As though that had ever made him lesser, somehow. As though he had ever felt any less love for his homeland than the people who had already lived there.

Bedivere had done more for them than many would ever know; exactly through acts like this, bringing supplies to the needy, offering relief to the downtrodden and poor. He knew well their plight, for he once lived it.

Now, though, he takes on that aspect that so many had celebrated of the Round Table's knights -- that of the righteous warrior.

And Sir Bedivere of the Dál Riata was no less capable than his brothers-in-arms. How often had his king espied him, practising and honing his skills late into the night and early to rise to push himself, ever seeking the boundaries of his abilities?

All that training had rewarded him well, for he was one of the few survivors of Camlann, but it does him no good here. He has never fought a creature like Kagenashi.

"It is not my way to leap to the sword," Bedivere admonishes her softly. His tone is still so soft, gentle for a man's voice, but there is an undeniable core of steel to it. She stepped too far in threatening the village, and in his own subtle way, he shows that. "All are worthy of redemption in the eyes of the Lord. No; I do not wish to fight. That is not my way. However, you leave me no choice."

He sounds almost regretful.

When she raises her hand, he does not so much as flinch, blade flashing as it whips around in time for a defense, but that air of wrongness is nothing that a blade can block. It simply flows around the shining steel, lancing past his neck and seeming to do no harm -- but he flinches and staggers back nonetheless, as surely as if he had been struck.

Even as he resumes his defensive stance, one hand rises to prod at his neck, only to find no wound and no blood. His expression is one of open puzzlement for a moment.

Slowly, violet eyes raise to Kagenashi, and that puzzlement fades again into grim caution.

"More than you could know," he says, voice calm and serene despite his wariness. "A knight must not be eager to come to blows. He must be a model of good behaviour to his fellow man. He must aid those less fortunate than himself; he must not abuse his power, his station."

"I offer you again the opportunity to pass by unmolested." His stare is level, violet eyes calm. "Please. Take it. I have no wish to fight."

Kagenashi (85) has posed:
Again Kagenashi's posture takes on a note of curiosity, head slanted aside and arms crossed. "A model of good behavior? Strange. Most of your kind would leap at the opportunity to strike down something like me. Would that not be doing the world a good deed, to cast out those it would call monsters?" Her arms uncross, her right hand coming to grasp the hilt of the opposite katana. The blade is drawn, elegant steel gleaming in the sunlight; soon the other is pulled free, too, and Kagenashi lowers both in a relaxed grip at her sides.

"You are interesting indeed. Perhaps, then, you view combat itself as something best left to those who are not 'good'. I have never met someone so reluctant to do battle before."

All at once, the nogitsune moves. A blur of billowing crimson, she ducks toward him, shifting off to the side slightly. Indeed, she is a literal blur; some illusionary force distorts her form, making it clear where she's /going/, but obscuring exactly what she's /doing/ as if she were made of bloody smoke. She dances off to the other side, then leaps up in a flip to come down on top of him - but at the last second, the gleam of her swords is cast aside as she shifts her descent just slightly, landing next to the knight instead. Immediately she comes into focus again, just as her sword is swiftly thrust toward him. Even if he doesn't parry it aside, however, it won't come close enough to hit: she's just far enough that the tip of the sword can come uncomfortably close to his face when her arm is fully extended. It seems she's more toying with him and trying to provoke a reaction than actually /fighting/ him.

"And what if your wish not to fight left you dead where you stand? What if your reluctance came at the cost of your life and the cause you uphold?"

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
"It is not my place to pass judgement." Bedivere continues to watch the nogitsune, though there is a caution to his regard that suggests he isn't about to trust her, or grow complacent in her company.

The tension in his shoulders suggests that he's prepared to bring his sword to bear in self-defense, but even then, only if he must. He tilts his head as she draws her blades, and there's a disappopintment to the gesture. Part of him had hoped she might put the notion aside, but clearly her little black heart is set on it.

Bedivere sighs--

--And then she's gone, blurring before his very eyes as she lunges forward. He immediately falls back a step, plated sabaton digging into the earthen path as he lashes out with his blade. While his reaction time is impressive, he can't see her clearly to see what she intends to do. There's no means for her to telegraph her movements.

Steel flashes as he brings his nameless sword up, first moving to drive Kagenashi away from his personal space; second to try and bat the tip of that katana away from his face. His violet eyes are wide in clear surprise -- he had not expected her to move so fast, supernatural creature that she is.

He has seen his king in battle, and watched Arturia spin and reave her way through the onrushing armies with a dancer's grace. He had seen her once follow a strike through, whirling completely around, and then plant her blade into a soldier preparing to strike her down from behind, graceful as a deer; the entire exchange had looked like a single, flawless movement. It had been fast, faster than anything he had ever seen before. He had been relieved, at the time, too occupied by fighting off three men at once to rush to her aid.

Even that memory pales before Kagenashi's speed.

Bedivere is breathing hard when he finds himself face to face with the cold, shining point of Kagenashi's sword. His eyes don't quite cross to regard it, but they come close, in its disconcerting nearness.

He swallows harshly, forcing himself to slow his breath, reaching for that calm.

"It has not before now, and it will not. There are always solutions that do not involve blood and death." His voice is perfectly even, but there's a tension about his eyes. His blade remains upraised, motionless, prepared to bat the katana away -- but as before, only in defense; never to strike out at Kagenashi. "When armies clash, it is the commonfolk and the villages who suffer."

He dares a brief glance at Kagenashi, trying to gauge her, but he finds her blank mask no easier to read than Arturia's own metaphorical mask. Exhaling, he shifts his posture, evening out his footing.

"I ask again. What is it you want of me?"

Kagenashi (85) has posed:
Kagenashi simply stands there in silence for a few tense moments, sword still lifted in a menacing point. The nogitsune doesn't shift or move, save for what breeze lingers in the forest sending her clothes to billow gently like war banners. Her expression is unreadable behind her mask, save for the faint gleam of silver visible in the darkness of its eyeholes. She could be thinking of absolutely anything, for all an observer could tell.

Suddenly, she twists her hand to knock her katana against the side of his blade. Of course she couldn't expect to turn the larger weapon aside with her own relatively fragile sword; it's more of a gesture to startle Bedivere than anything else as the resounding clang of metal against metal echoes through the forest. Her arm finally falls to her side as she speaks, a faint note of irritation breaking the calm of her voice. "I want you to do something more than simply stand there. Have you never duelled before? I leave myself open to attack and you simply gape until I move. Is my appearance really that distracting, noble knight, or are you simply that obstinate?"

Once more, she disappears, though at this range Bedivere may be able to make out the ever-so-faint ghostly outline of her form. She is invisible for all intents to any normal person, but this spiritual form is not absolutely perfect. Still incredibly difficult to follow, but at least there is a minute tell. Immediately she begins to circle him, striding around the taller man with her swords still held low. Her voice echoes as if emerging from a deep cave, far away and difficult to pinpoint the source. "Perhaps your tactic is to simply ward me away from sheer boredom, inspiring me to feel as if I may as well be fighting a stick of bamboo for as interesting as this is. Do you even know how to swing your weapon against an enemy?"

Again she reappears, this time opposite where she was before. Her swords are already raised, and she swings them in a horizontal arc aimed right at Bedivere. With the angle she has, however, she would simply crash her katanas against his armored chestplate if he didn't deflect her attack; not the most effective method of injuring someone.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
Both nogitsune and knight remain utterly motionless, watching each other from their adversarial stances. If the masked creature is motionless, the knight is a statue. The only sign of movement is the drift of his silvery hair in the breeze. His violet eyes are cold and hard.

Kagnashi brandishes her sword and slaps it against the scarred edge of the nameless blade, the impact shivering down Bedivere's arm as he staggers back, sucking in a breath in surprise. Despite his restrained caution, there's another fleeting instant of surprise as he draws his blade back... but he doesn't strike. He merely resets its stance, maintaining his defensive position.

"Have I not made myself clear enough? I have no wish to fight." Bedivere tilts his head in an expression of curiosity. "Lust you for blood so that you would waste your energy on this fruitless battle? There is no point or purpose to this."

He turns on his heel as she vanishes again, raising his blade in a two-handed grip, keeping it close, the better to block or parry on short notice. His eyes dart here and there, seeking out the green shadows, only able to follow about half of her trajectory until she reappears. As she pads in a circle around him, he turns, footing sure beneath himself, violet eyes watching warily.

"Indeed I do, milady," he responds, inclining his head again in that strange, slightly sideways twist of acknowledgement. "I have fought in many battles."

He's ready, but her speed is still far greater than any mortal opponent. Bedivere twists his blade with a flick of his wrists. She finds no purchase on the steel breastplate, his blade instead twisting just so; showing skill in the way he twists it to turn aside both striking blades -- keen of eye and perception, but more than that, swift reflexes. Sparks spit from the point of impact; he takes half a step back after turning her blades aside.

"Will you not sheathe your blades? I tell you, I have no wish to fight." He watches her, wary; as he slows to a halt, his heavy, mantled cloak settles behind him. "I have read about you. You are Lady Kagenashi, and you have done much ill in the pursuit of power. Why do you persist? What gain do you seek from such actions?"

Kagenashi (85) has posed:
Both katanas are swept away without much difficulty; clearly a sign of Bedivere's skill in combat. Kagenashi steps back and brings her swords up once more, but she doesn't strike out at him again. His words make her grip on her weapons tighten, the first sign she's shown of any real tension since this encounter began. "I do not lust for /blood/. Bloodshed is a consequence of conflict, not a cause for it. I do not coat the earth in red for mere entertainment, knight."

Her silver glare can almost be /felt/ from behind her mask. Kagenashi is not one used to being denied with such insistence. She has provoked people like Shizune easily enough, and others have been coerced one way or another to her satisfaction, but Bedivere is so reluctant to fight that the outcome seems like it would not even be worth the effort.

"...clearly you know nothing of the enjoyment found in matching skill and strength with an opponent and overcoming them. Of course, why should I expect you to? You are so incredibly resistant to combat that it is a wonder you do not cower and beg for your life."

Again Kagenashi raises her weapons, moving into a more readied stance. Her gaze flits over slightly from its fixture on his face. What could she be planning? "Many people have done ill in pursuit of their goals, Sir Bedivere. I imagine your fellow knights and whatever king you may serve are no different. Is their power defended with bloodshed as well?"

The woman suddenly strikes once more, thrusting her right sword up as if to dig it between Bedivere's plates and actually deliver a direct wound. That blow, however, never completes; it's a feint meant to distract from her next attack with the right sword, coming up and around with lightning speed to stab...his ear? Or not even his ear: she's aiming to jab the tip of her katana into his radio and yank it out with inhuman precision.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
"Ah. No." Bedivere shakes his head, though his eyes never leave the nogitsune, and his hands never leave his sword, held before him in a defensive stance. "I find enjoyment in matching skill with an opponent, in times of peace, and the thrill of the contest. But I take no joy in taking lives or striking in deadly earnest."

It isn't out of cowardice that he avoids conflict, but he has a feeling that no reasoning of his would reach her. Clearly, she wants to fight. He can see the way she tightens her grip over her weapons, and the way she stalks him, like a predator that scents blood.

"If you think that by insulting me you will draw my ire, then you waste both time and breath, Lady Kagenashi," Bedivere says, lifting tired violet eyes to the supernatural creature. It's true that there are slight shadows under his eyes that suggest sleeplessness, but the weariness in his gaze is suggestive of something deeper. "Put away your weapons. I have no will to indulge you in this foolishness--"

He reacts with serpentine speed, twisting his blade and shoving out one shoulder to push the left-hand katana away, but even as he does, the left-hand katana darts in; he feels resistance as the tip delicately impales his radio in a shower of sparks and a crackle of static. The broken radio is cast into the road as she withdraws her weapon, fizzing and popping.

He looks at her for a brief instant, seeming to recognise that he is alone. No hope of calling any allies, now; and for the moment, he is at her mercy. Does he plead? Beg? Cower before her and ask her to spare his life, now that he's at her whim?

No. He simply draws himself up, veritably looming before her, and resumes his defensive stance.

"Go away, creature," he says, tiredly. "I have read information about you. You would know nothing of knights or kings. And you know little and less of the king whom I serve. Amuse yourself elsewhere. I have business that I must attend to, and it does not involve you."

Kagenashi (85) has posed:
Kagenashi slips back just a moment after her blade strikes the radio, immediately sinking into a more defensive stance as she watches for Bedivere's reaction. She waits, stares...

...and gives a brief 'tch' of annoyance, straightening up once more from her posture. "And what you have read means little. Do you really presume to know everything about me from what your Union has gathered? Do you think I would give them all knowledge of who I am? Foolish knight, neither you nor the Union knows anything about me."

Greenish-blue flames slip from the mouth of her mask, forming four ectoplasmic orbs that begin to dance around her, bobbing and weaving like excited spirits. She flicks a sword toward Bedivere, sending one orb of fox fire at him in a swift, burning rush. Her tone suddenly becomes much more controlled and serious, her calm the kind maintained by a person holding back a burning ire. "The Union considers me to simply be hungry for power and does not think past that. My history is not questioned, for clearly it must not matter. By knowing that one trait, they must know everything of who I am."

The second orb turns to a bolt of lightning that strikes out at Bedivere with a resounding crash. "Perhaps that is why they have not truly stopped my progress yet. Perhaps such naive insistences are why three kitsune now lie stripped of their power, and soon five more will join them."

And there's the third, sweeping past Bedivere in a streak of flame to rush in behind him. "Perhaps they underestimate me. Clearly you seem to, insisting that I know nothing. You, naive knight, who barely seem to understand what stands before you."

Finally, the fourth, lifting up and coming down on Bedivere as lightning as if shot from the clouds. "Will you raise your sword, then? Will you strike out at someone your allies think should be silenced? Will you do so if you could even hold a chance of ending a known enemy's life? Or are you still so determined that you will not even raise your hand unless I continue to beat you into the earth?"

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
"No. I would not. I would, however, consider it an adequate start." Bedivere maintains his defensive posture. His blade wavers in hand, but only to assume a more ready stance as he follows Kagenashi's movements. It seems he really has no intention of striking out at her unless she proves, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that this battle is unavoidable. "I presume you would have given them nothing, but there are always those whose duty it is to observe."

Such as was his, once upon a time.

Still, he's beginning to reach the point of action, if only to drive her off. Having his radio destroyed, and no means by which to call on his allies for help -- he would not be so cowardly as to call upon them at the mere sight of Kagenashi, but now, if he were truly in need, he has no recourse.

Violet eyes flick to regard the witchfires that slide from the mouth of the mask. He turns slightly, trying to track all four orbs at once and still watch Kagenashi. It's impossible to watch everything at once, though--

Bedivere is staggered by the mere brush of one orb of foxfire; while it does no damage to his armour. It burns both hot and cold; clutching at his sword-arm with teeth gritted, he almost looks like he might drop his nameless sword.

Slowly, with effort, he recovers his posture and straightens. Stil, he makes no motion to raise his weapon against her; only in defense, watching those three remaining orbs--

And then there were two. The lightning sends Bedivere staggering back again, twitching reflexively from the electricity still coursing along his veins. He shakes out his off-hand with a grimace, but his eyes never leave Kagenashi.

"As I said, it is not my place to j-judge." He stutters a bit from the lingering electricity. "I do not kn-know y--hrk--!"

Another flame. He wrenches himself out of the way, but it seems to cost him; the thing clips his neck, and the entire effort to dodge throws him off-balance. One knee bangs into the earthen path, and just as quickly, he forces himself to rebound and stand once more.

He's ready for the last one, but he doesn't actually fight it -- he simply leaps backward, graceful as a deer, far more so than one wearing plate armour would seem. Either he's not as mortal as he smells, or he's simply one hell of a determined human to have trained so hard.

"Perhaps their mistrust of you is well-deserved. Perhaps it is not. It is not my place to judge, but we are at war, and war is impersonal. Have you sought to speak to them? Or have you merely complained that they have not asked, when they have reacted in good sense to the atrocities you have striven to commit?" Bedivere finally begins to move, circling her slowly, like a hound looking for his opening strike. But he does not actually strike; does not so much as lift his sword past its guarding stance. "Who am I to you that you would waste such time on me? Truly? Let us be honest with ourselves, here; you would no sooner tell me your history than you would stop to parlay with the Union."

The blade flicks, as though he were restless, but never once does it rise to point at Kagenashi; he merely maintains his defensive stance, still walking around her, studying her. Moving helps; it keeps him ready if she decides to start throwing fire at him again. He wants to check his sword-arm, for it feels burnt, but he dares not take his eyes off the nogitsune. "But if you think that I would take a life out of hand, then more you the fool. That is not my way. I will raise my sword in defense. And I will raise it in defense of others. But I will not raise it needlessly, nor will I raise it in anger."

"What moves you to such? Why do you strike at the Union? At the protectors of your world? I would know why. Even the most terrible of atrocities are done with reason." Even Mordred had motivation in bringing Camelot down; misguided and ill-thought as it was, it was nonetheless a motivation.

Kagenashi (85) has posed:
"You mistake my observations and retorts for childish complaint," Kagenashi murmurs, holding her ground and only turning enough to watch him as he begins to circle her. "I would not begrudge them for standing in my way. I do not think they have responded without reason. To be honest, I see no other way they would resonably respond. It is just...interesting."

She falls silent again. His questions pass over her, and for quite some time, it may seem as if she is seriously contemplating an answer. Could the secretive woman finally be considering a straight answer in regards to herself and her motives?

Finally, she turns to him, lifting one katana again. Her stance, however, is relaxed. Though she points the tip at his face yet again, she doesn't hold it as if she is looking to stab him. It just so happens that she has a very effective pointing tool in her hand right now. "You have failed me. I come here seeking entertainment and all I see is a reluctant knight who must be beaten down before he responds. You are not worth the effort today."

The nogitsune lowers her sword, slipping it into the sheath on her arm. The second follows suit, both clicking into place once they reach the hilts. Kagenashi steps forward, then, closing the distance between them with two light steps before she leans in closer to the taller man. "I will grant you the chance to continue to your task. You, however, now have a debt to repay to express your gratitude for my mercy. Fear not; I will find a proper way for you to repay me soon, so that you need not quake in anticipation for long."

She pauses for another moment, straightening up once more and crossing her arms. "And yes. I have reasons. We will have to see if you figure them out eventually."

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
"In that case, can you reasonably say that we have not attempted to learn of your history? Have I not just asked you?" Bedivere's response is calm, but there is an edge to his words that suggests vague annoyance. "What choice do you leave me? You speak in nothings, and then when given what you might wish for, you express your scorn. What else am I to think?"

This creature is somewhat frustrating, but he lets none of that show on his face or in his posture. He has faced worse in the courts, where it was vital to remain placid.

Bedivere tilts his head, regarding Kagenashi warily. The point of his sword gradually lowers until it nearly touches the earth, and he reaches over with his other hand, absently testing to see if any serious harm was done. Although it pains him, he's reasonably confident he's suffered worse.

He exhales, then, through his nose. The faintest hint of a frown mars his brow. "You are a puzzling creature. What is it you truly want? It seems you cannot give me an answer honestly. Do you even know what the answer is, I wonder?"

"You think me reluctant? I have led battles, and fought wars, and I have found I have no use for them. What good is there to shedding blood for the sheer joy of it? There is no joy in it. There is only loss, and pain, and grieving." He half-turns away from her, snorting, eyes closing for just an instant after she's put away her weapons. "I owe no debt to you. That you exercised 'mercy' was your own choosing. I serve none but my king... but you would know nothing of such fealty, or understand such sense of duty to another, would you? I see before me a creature who serves herself -- from all that I have learned, your methods are hardly honourable. You thieve, and you take what you wish, but do you truly earn it?"

He cocks a violet eye to her, slightly hard; the only sign of his vexation. "I do not quake. And I would not quake before you any more than I would kneel before you."

Bedivere simply shakes his head, turning as though to retrieve his packhorse, with the air of someone tired. "Go about your business. I owe no debt to a creature such as you, not now, and not ever."

Kagenashi (85) has posed:
"Why, yes, you have asked me. I suppose that has changed now, has it not? Look at you, paving new roads for your faction. Your king must be quite proud." It's hard to tell just how mocking Kagenashi is being right now, but at least it sounds as if any irritation has left her tone. That placid way of speaking can make it so difficult to tell how she's feeling.

The nogitsune lifts a hand to flick her fingers at him in a dismissive gesture. "Of course I know what I want, little one." Strange choice of words against someone nearly half a foot taller than her. "Sometimes one must simply not divulge the fullest extents of one's desires to others, however. Some things are best kept hidden."

Her head cocks slightly to one side as she listens to him, thoughtful and curious. Maybe this is what she was looking for.

"I earned my powers by waiting nine hundred years for them to come to me," she replies cooly. "Now I am simply taking back what I earned. I must wonder if you have a right to talk, from what I have heard of your king. The 'Round Table', as you called it...no such thing exists in my world, but it is fascinating what one may learn in the Multiverse. It brings me to wonder if, assuming such tales are accurate, your own king's place has been earned as you claim it to be."

She continues, lifting her arm in a shrug. "A king can be crowned through many means, but few of them are truly /earned/. A throne is taken, a crown coveted, and a rule used to establish a single person's ideals and desires upon a weaker populace. Power is used to silence those who would bring the king into question, and those who would doubt a king's rule soon find their lives made all the worse. I would not consider your king any better than myself, if I were you."

She turns to walk away, then, starting down the path Bedivere came from. "You do hold a debt, whether you wish to or not, knight."

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
Bedivere is silent, listening to the creature and watching her, face impassive and posture as stone. He will bear almost any insult to himself with dignity, graceful enough to let it slide. Such was the price of his responsibilities as the king's aide-de-camp. What he does not bear so easily, though, is mockery towards his king.

Something shifts in his gaze. Where there had been a certain level of calm, it's swept away, violet eyes darkening in sudden anger.

"I warn you, creature, do not insult my king--"

She's still talking, though, and he can even shrug off her condescending reference to him. Harder for him to shrug off is the implication that Arturia's reign was anything but fairly earned, or that she had done anything but what was spoken of. After all, no matter how many different accounts one heard of Arturia's rise to kingship, they all agreed on the general course of events.

"Do not dare insult King Arturia's reign." Bedivere's voice is cool and quiet, but there is a deadly undercurrent of cold anger to it. Ah, there's the reaction she had been fishing for all along. While he would take any manner of insult to himself, apparently the true key is to insult his liege's honour. There's a deliberation to his words that suggests he's controlling himself with great effort. "You know nothing of my king. Do not speak as though you do. She did not use power to silence those who would question her reign."

"She used her power to build a kingdom in which all could prosper; not just a select few. Do not speak to me of comparisons! There is no comparing my king or the likes of you, creature. My king did not rob others of their power, nor did she engage in all manner of thievery and mischief. She has honour, which is more than I can say of you!"

"I owe you no debt," he says, very slowly and deliberately. "Not now. Not ever. And if you insult my king again--"

Well, his sword's still pointed at her, so the threat is pretty bloody obvious.

Kagenashi (85) has posed:
Even as Kagenashi turns away, she doesn't manage to /walk/ away. There's a large and abruptly angered knight speaking to her and pointing a sword at her. That isn't the sort of situation one simply strides away from.

She waits patiently, listening to Bedivere's every retort and demand. Only once his last threat falls on her does she slowly turn to look back at him, lifting a hand to rest her fingers against the tip of his sword. Her tone when she speaks again is perfectly unbothered, perhaps infuriatingly so. "A woman? And she aspired to create a kingdom for all? Well, we are more alike than I at first expected, then. How fortunate; you need not be so offended by the comparison."

The nogitsune gives the sword a push aside with her fingers before stepping away again and letting her arm fall to her side. Still she speaks, keeping that unapologetically serene tone even as she looks ahead instead of back at him. "Perhaps the methods may be different, but the outcomes are the same, Sir Bedivere. In the end, it hardly matters what path was taken, only that the ending was reached. You should not put your king on such a high pedestal because she achieved the same goal in her own way. It makes one wonder if your devotion might not be so knightly."

Weighing on the implications, even in passing.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
The Knight of the Round keeps his blade trained in the direction of Kagenashi's torso, but there is a quiet, tell-tale rattling. The blade trembles in his hand, held a bit les steady than its owner might have preferred. It seems that Kagenashi has indeed found the way through Bedivere's famous calm.

Quite the shortcut through it, really.

"You are nothing alike," he retorts coldly. "Mark me; she did what was necessary. But she took no joy in it. She did not raise her sword /unless/ it was necessary."

Something twitches near the corner of his right eye as she delicately pushes the point of his sword away with a few fingers. She might hear the rattling of his armour, this close, as he struggles to control his temper; so rare a thing to run away with him, but something that burns so very bright and hot when it does. Even Gawain and Lancelot could not have said to see such.

He had taken great pains that they didn't.

His complexion is pale to begin with, but the blood seems to drain from his face as she continues on. Finally, she gives her last observation.

Bedivere opens his mouth to say something, but his voice will not obey.

Finally, he swallows harshly, though whether from anger or shock, or some mixture of the two, it's hard to say. When he finds his voice again, it's a dry, hoarse rasp.

"/Draw your blades/. You will cease your insult of King Arturia. And you will cease such dishonourable implications. Or I will personally still your tongue."

Kagenashi (85) has posed:
That tone is enough to stop Kagenashi again. The nogitsune slowly turns to face Bedivere again, lifting a hand to alight her fingertips on her chin in curious interest. "...oh. So I am perceptive, then. Why else would you be trembling so, struggling for breath? Clearly she must not know; how long have you managed to hide it?"

The masked woman breathes a regretful sigh, her hands falling to rest on her hips. A hint of weariness slips into her voice as she continues. "And now you are eager. I would draw my swords again, but, regretfully, you have put me out of the mood for combat today. Perhaps we can arrange something for a later date, when I am feeling more open to duelling? Look at you; your face has lost all color and you can barely stand upright as it is. Hardly a state to fight in."

She shakes her head, the click of her tongue almost audible at that distance, then gives a brief gesture toward the bound horse. "I think you would be better off letting thoughts of your dear Arturia settle and tending to that village you were so determined about earlier. Assuming you are not trembling so much that you cannot even walk, at least. Really, what would she say if she were to see you so flustered now?"

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
Every word is like a knife in the heart, and the question of how long he'd managed to hide it is like all of those grasped firmly and given a good, sharp wrench. Although he doesn't move, he trembles, almost shaking. The urge to plant his sword in Kagenashi's face is almost overwhelming.

He is controlled, though, and he is better than his baser instincts, or his aggression in the face of this mortal insult.

With great effort, Bedivere draws in a deep breath and lets it go through his nose, but it doesn't improve his colour any. He still looks white as a sheet even as he reverses his grip on his sword. Carefully, and it takes him one or two attempts, he slides the blade back into its scabbard.

Ah, forgive me, he thinks. That was nearly a stain upon his honour...

"Go," he says, his voice a curiously thin, strained tone. One hand snaps up to point down the road in the direction he had come from. "Leave here, before I can no longer control myself. I would not sully my honour on the likes of you."

"Do not even so much as suggest such to me again." His voice is still low, almost gentle, but there is a note of pure venom to his words. "I tremble so and struggle for breath because your willingness to drag her honour through the mud sickens me. I am her loyal marshal, and no more," he adds, slashing his arm outward in a gesture of refusal. It is, he inwardly hopes, a convincing performance.

But probably not.

"/Go/," he adds, this time in a snarl. "And when next we meet, pray that I am of even temper."

Kagenashi (85) has posed:
In truth, Bedivere's insistent denial honestly confuses Kagenashi. Why this is /such/ an issue simply doesn't compute to her. But, then again, kitsune and nogitsune are creatures of openness and freedom, and feeling something for another is rarely a troublesome matter. Not that she'll let onto that; making Bedivere think she's doing it /entirely/ on purpose just makes the impact all the stronger.

"What a strange concept of honor," the nogitsune remarks, sighing softly and giving another shake of her head. "Very well. If you so insist, I shall take my leave and allow you to continue your work. I do hope you are in better humor the next time we meet; you are far more pleasant to speak to then, even if the sight of you trembling is amusing."

Munashi rises from her seat in the grass, bounding over to rest at Kagenashi's side. The woman in red bends down to scratch the shadow fox's ears, then seems to remember something, straightening up and raising a finger by her shoulder. "By the way, you need not worry. So long as no true strife comes between us, your secret is safe with me."

She vanishes immediately before his temper can strike her, and Munashi darts off at the same time, disappearing into the shadows.