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Marigold	THE CAPITAL, AQULEIA, ETRURIA      Not far from the palace, now.      In the aftermath of Bishop Windham being disintegrated by the Tower of the Saint, the traitorous clerics are quick to flee.      Father Lucius is wounded, though not critically so; even after Cecilia rushes to heal him, he's pale and can barely stand. Flamel's jet is atomized. Aureola, 'the Light at the Pinnacle' and the Saint's Staff are in hand, though since Lucius was their most plausible wielder, that won't immediately do you any good.      "Hey, cheer up. You were right about the plane," Echidna says to Sophia, who smiles guiltily. "Nobody died, right?" Larum smiles too, but her distinct discomfort is for a different reason.      After a few breathless moments to recover, Cecilia urges everyone to keep moving: "We've got to get to the palace now, before they close ranks around the king. They could have us surrounded by now."      But, emerging from the Tower and its walled courtyard, you find no such thing.      Instead, the city of Aquleia is very vigorously rioting.
Marigold	People are already flooding towards the Tower, having seen the apparent miracle, but this can only have been brewing for a very long time. The more agile locals- Rutger, Echidna and Larum- scale the tower courtyard's one-story wall, hop from there to a rooftop, and use that to avoid the crush of bodies in the streets.      Dieck gingerly picks up Lucius in his arms- "Sorry, Father." "Ah... it's alright, Dieck..."- and Cecilia uses a newly-pilfered staff to warp them up too, followed by herself and Sophia. They expect the Elites to follow them up.      Some of the instigators must be ousted loyal clergy, but the streets are alive with ordinary people too. A couple of patrols of Etrurian soldiers have been backed against buildings or pinned in alleyways; they hesitate to fight their own citizens, and you can see one get wrestled down and disarmed.      From up there on the second-story shingles, you can catch bits of what people are roaring:      "Even the Saint thinks--"      "Down with Bern! Down with Roartz!"      "We want you gone!! You--"      "Bishop Yoder! Free Bishop Yoder!"      "Up there! General Cecilia?!"      "A sign! It's--"      "Cecilia! Cecilia! She's back!!"      Cecilia steps back from the rooftop's edge, covering her mouth in a stunned expression.      "First time?" Echidna says, resting on her axe for a moment.      "I... I only hadn't thought..."      "You're doing this for them, aren't you? Maybe they're wrong about the light from the sky, but people aren't stupid."      "... We've got to keep moving. The palace is in sight."      "Sure. Savor it later. Larum?"      The short orange-haired spymaster nods, tensely. "I'm... ready as I'll ever be, Echidna. Do you think Douglas will come around peacefully...?"      "Hey. It's not like you to frown like that."      "He's my dad, Echidna. I get to be sad."      "Ah, I didn't mean..."
Odette Raskins	After the battle with Bishop Windham, Odette's not in great condition herself. Like Lucius, she's badly wounded, but still able to stumble around in a medicinal haze applying more ointments, gauze, and other heavy-duty injections of colorful chemicals to herself and her allies. She's still favoring Father Lucius after all that fire from the sky, of course, bringing out the blood bags and medical tape to stick it right to his shoulder once she notices that he's still pale. "Th... There. Should.. That should help with any dizziness. Just don't peel it off until it runs out or you have to, okay?" She mumbles, giving Dieck a grateful nod as he handles transport. "J-just gotta take it easier where we can, even if..." She looks over at the crowd swarming the Tower, inhaling lightly for a moment and popping the tab on an energy drink to guzzle it down. "Don't have a lot of time, but... We can breathe. M-make sure we're not going in before we have a chance for that, at least." There's still not enough time to rest properly, especially with a potential showdown with Douglas just around the corner, but taking her own advice to breathe really seems to settle her down. Odette takes a seat on the edge and closing her eyes to just let that sound of the townspeople turn to static in her ears, then looks over at Larum with a sympathetic eye. "Maybe... He'll listen to you, then? I-I mean... He's your dad. Parents listen to their kids when they're hurt, you know?" Odette suggests, clearly having a very different upbringing than many. "A-and even if there's a fight, I've got... I've got meds. He'll be okay. W-we can make sure things work out for you and him." She promises, patting that trusty medical bag of hers that's probably more blackened than white from all the punishment it's gone through at this point.
Flamel Parsons	Flamel stumbles out to the edge of the rooftop, looking down. His flickering form is clearly partial invisibility -- he's visible to those here, but not to the crowd. Looks like a spy prefers to stay out of sight in a lot of ways. "Urban operations like this... Gah, sure is good, that minds like this are on our side right now. These people sure are hungry for a change to things. Can't depend on the crowd for long though, we better take the opportunity!" He beams, turning to Cecilia. "This means you've done what you needed to!"     Clapping a hand to its opposite, he says, "This is the result, not of any kind of inner virtue, or some kind of tremendous effort you're doing right now -- but years of hard work you did for Etruria! That means you'd better keep up the work, we're on the final stretch."     He turns to Laurum, leaning in a bit. "Hey." He says, tapping his own head. "You've heard of what I can do. You're a spy, like me in a lot of ways. You're on our side. And your dad, that mind is familiar territory to you." He takes a big breath. "I think we're in a situation where the best use of personnel... would be for me to help get you into Douglas' mind behind-the-scenes, to operate independently. I could operate there myself, but splitting our forces is something we should only do if there's a really good opportunity. Is that something you'd be willing to take a shot at?"     "Either way," He lifts off the ground, in a short-height levitation. "We need to get underway. Don't we?" Telekinetic hands are offered for anyone who wants a ride over the rooftops alongside him. It'll take all his focus to have passengers, his mobility's not something he can really share in any convenient or efficient way -- but he can get to the palace fast, and it sounds like everyone needs to.
Madeleine Cadrasteia	Rather than tempt fate by riding with the other Elites in Flamel's jet, Madeleine opted to infiltrate the city on foot. When the first bolt-from-heaven appears, she thanks her stars she avoided the plane - with something like her aboard, a divine attack like that could've been even more devastating. She's a little surprised to see Ultraman appear halfway across the city and catch the camouflaged jet, but only a little, having already seen the newcomer Elite when she parted ways from the others at the warpgate.     While the other Elites do battle at the Tower of the Saint, Madeleine puts her talents to use ferreting out side or even secret exits from the palace into the rest of the city. If things go awry - which they appear to be already - she wants to know where the coup's supporters could try to abscond with their captive king.     "Cecilia! Cecilia! She's back!!"     The huntress is finishing her survey of the palace and its surrounds when the cries go up and the people throng the streets. If she doesn't act now she'll get trapped in the crowd - a good place to hide, but not an easy place to move around. Casting aside the raggy grey-brown cloak she'd been using as a rudimentary disguise (so as to appear like a wandering mercenary, and not a goth-chic popstar), she leap-scramble-shimmies up a drainpipe and onto a rooftop. From there she can spy Roy's agents and the other elites ascending to the roofs as well.     As the others catch up to her position she ponders some kind of quip about hoping the 'detour' was productive, but seeing Lucius's injured state she opts not to make light of whatever happened there. Instead she mentally reviews what she's learned about the palace, although she hasn't been inside - making her probably the second most familiar with it, after General Cecilia.
Echolalia	Echolalia hops up to the top of the tower via a series of wall jumps before dropping down near Sophia, "Yooooo!" She says. "I made it!" Echolalia wasn't in the previous battle but seems to have caught up to the gang now but she's real bad at being subtle and seems impatient to actually get into the situation and start couping. Indeed, she doesn't wait for orders or anything like that as she sends out little vine-tendrils poking out of the ground to pry free weapons and shields from Erturian soldiers and then snap the vines--and weapons--down underground where they can vanish. She isn't trying to harm anyone but figures the least she can do. She hums lightly at the idea of dads listening to their daughters, "Well...hopefully! It'd be nice, right? But even in the worst case scenario, maybe it doesn't have to go bad." She doesn't need a telekinetic hand but it's novel! So she hops onto one of them and marvels at it. "Wow! This is pretty cool, Flamel!" She kicks the telekinetic hand a few times to test it for sturdiness and then does a few hops. "Did Rita teach you this technique?? But I see the hands..."
Riku Asakura	After the fight, Riku canceled his transformation and was no longer Ultraman Geed.  He takes his time getting medical aid, though he often says he's alright despite being hit directly by the light arrows several times during the fight and eventually has to be told to get healing.  Once he's bandaged up, however, he's listening to people talk.   "They're calling for you," Riku says to Cecilia. I know I'm new to this, but people call out for others to help them when they can't do it themselves. Hold onto their hope, and it won't lead you astray," he says, smiling softly. Then he grabs ahold of his Fusion Riser, a device he uses to transform into Geed, and walks towards the streets.  It's time to go and save the king so that Cecilia's father won't be held in such a bad position.   "You go!" he says activating one of the capsules he holds.  It has Ultraman on it, before slipping it into a holster.  "I go!" he says next, activating a capsule with Ultraman Belial's body on it.  He slips it into the next holster slot.  "Here we go!" and slides the Fusion Riser against each capsule activating their power.   "Time to get ready!" he calls out next, as the DNA light on the Fusion Riser mixes the essence of the Ultracapsules, and he shouts out, "GEEEEEED!" Bright blue light erupts from him, as it envelops the young man and reveals Ultraman Geed Primitive.  He grows as he transforms too, several stories in size as he attempts to go in big to both be a target and a distraction for others who would also want to be heading towards the king.   Ultraman Geed was walking right towards the Palace, careful not to step on anyone as he did so.
Desire Stars	Still armored up, the Kamen Riders join Rutger, Echidna and Larum on the rooftop. First time?      Geats chuckles. Do you think Douglas will come around peacefully...?      Na-Go's helmet dips downward in thought. *Based on everything that's happened so far, and how hard people have held onto things that are just... bad for everyone, I really don't know. But it's not like I can say that to Larum.*      "Whatever happens, Larum, we'll find a way forward together."      "We shouldn't dawdle," Geats gently advises, before making for the edge of the rooftop. Taking advantage of the distraction posed by Geed, both Riders proceed at a brisk pace leaping from one surface to the next in his wake. Every so often, Geats checks back to make sure the others are keeping pace--the guards might be occupied with the riot, but an oversight this close to the goal could be disastrous.
Trudy Grimm	In the aftermath of Windham's demise, the Captain and his remaining Soldiers regroup. There's a silent moment between the four soldiers where they seem to be having a conversation, but there is no actual sound. Just-- gestures. Nods, waves of hands. After some of this, the three subordinates straighten to Attention with a quick stomp of boots, then sink into their shadows. The Captain turns to face Trudy, lifts his arm in salute, and sinks out of sight as well.     Trudy herself lets out a little sigh, tucking a green gemstone back into her sleeve with her eyes closed, "Great work, Captain. I'll see about reassembling your subordinates later." Eyes opening just a touch, she glances over her shoulder at Cecilia, then Larum. Closing them once more, she closes her Grimoire with a soft thump.     "Mister Parsons is right. The people demand change. Even a general must acknowledge he cannot control a people who do not want to be controlled. He will go peacefully or he is a fool." The glow of her irises almost seems more intense when she opens her eyes again, "Time to find out which he is."     As she steps forward, her shadow remains where it is-- growing until the towering Black Knight can climb out in that eerie, visceral way he likes to do. Despite her head start, he catches up to her in a mere two paces, scooping the witch up in one arm to place her on his shoulder while his other hand unseats the greatsword from its place across his back.     Like this, with the Knight's sword resting on his shoulder, Trudy advances in the wake of Ultraman Geed, relying on the Black Knight's size and presence to pass through the riotous crowd. From her perch, she raises her free hand, "To the castle, then! Free yourselves and free your rightful leaders! Free your country! Burn Bern and all who refuse to stand up to Zephiel's mad dream!"
Aidan Proudpick	People. That's a LOT of people. Aidan sticks his head out into the courtyard, watching the mob press in. A savage grin spreads across his face as he watches the people press in from all sides. "Yes! They are doing it. They are doing it!" Aidan hasn't really seen an ENTIRE city rise up. He's been on the side of small groups, rebel uprisings, small potatoes stuff that can only carve out a tiny niche. This gets his blood up. Hup, Aidan scampers up the side of the tower, hup, Aidan leaps from the window over to the roof. Hup, he runs across the top of the roof, taking in the sights with a critical eye. "Parents listen to their kids when they're hurt, you know?" Mouth open, then close. Then a big smile that he hopes is convincing, eyes squeezed, remembering to smile with them as well! "Lots of parents do, Miss Odette," he lies, nodding eagerly at Larum.
Flamel Parsons	"Did Rita teach you this technique?? But I see the hands..."     "The sea-lady I've heard a bit about? I actually don't know her! She's a psychic, huh... I didn't know! Adding that to the dossiers for sure. I'll have to take a look at her in action sometime. But no-- learned this one from the Psychonauts." Flamel rambles a bit, as he readies to take off with the others.
Echolalia	"I think she must be," Echolalia confirms that Rita's a psychic. "Actually she talked to my goddess so she definitely is psychic. But she's also, like, a ninja." Echolalia gives Flamel a thumbsup, beaming at him. "She's real sweet but a bit shy about people learning how badass she is...But I hope to learn a great deal from her!" She punches her fist into her palm to indicate what kind of mastery she's seeking.
Petra Soroka	Petra does her best not to limp on her way out of the tower, which makes her look exactly like every other debelted Kamen Rider trying not to limp after getting the shit beat out of them. Face scraped up and clothes singed by the explosion, she's trying sooo hard to not worry Lucius by looking wounded, because he's currently hurt and therefore it is rude of her to also be hurt. She wearily looks up at the wall she's expected to climb without a suit, then begrudgingly takes one of Flamel's offered telekinetic hands for a ride up.     She sinks into a squat on top of the big translucent hand, absentmindedly nudging the fingers with the tip of her boot, pushing hair out of her face while watching the riot in the streets below. Hearing the chanting at Cecilia's return, her mind wanders back to something that she and Echidna argued about before, and without thinking about it, she mumbles under her breath. "I guess that's a point to you being a revolutionary instead, huh." "He's my dad, Echidna. I get to be sad."     Once Petra is satisfied with the stability of Flamel's telekinetic hand, she slides her feet out from under herself and sits down in the palm, needing the rest before, possibly, having to get into another fight. She glances at Odette dubiously, then at Larum.     "... Does he have anything to gain, even, by not going peacefully? We've already basically won. Is he the... stubborn, type?" Petra sighs, feeling like it can't possibly be true even while she's saying it. "He's your dad. You'd know best what to expect."
Lilian Rook	In the aftermath of the tower of the Saint, Lilian has, for once, no new thoughts about her inherent moral impurity or the eyes of society's judgement at all. She nearly got nuked out of existence by the magic of a scary, powerful, nebulously aged woman (by proxy) and at this point that kind of thing is value at worst as far as she's concerned.     She does, however, also still have the injuries from the blast, and all of the strain before that. It takes her what feels like an hour for her heart rate to finally go back down below the pace it was at shortly after the first bolt hit the spy plane. Checking on Lucius doesn't help, given his injuries; letting her mind wander to whether or not the Pope has a laser tower like this to prevent assassination during her giving medical treatment weirdly does.     'We've got to get to the palace now, before they close ranks around the king. They could have us surrounded by now.'     "Agreed. We're already shit out of luck if we expect to still take the stealth approach, and even as we are, retreating will only make a second attempt a disaster. We have no choice but to march on."     . . . . . . . .     'First time?'     'I... I only hadn't thought...'     Lilian, too, is stunned. Not in the same sense, or from the same emotional place as Cecilia; she couldn't be, because these aren't her people, and they don't see her as anyone, much less someone obligated to protect them; but the reasons for Cecilia's shock are the same as her own. Uncharacteristically, she stands silent and useless through the whole interaction, lingering at a distance behind both, despite having already drawn her weapon and insisted on taking vanguard.     "Petra and Parsons are right." says Lilian, mostly to herself. The words taste sour in her throat.
Marigold	Odette, in her ragged state, gets a warm touch on her shoulder from a (three years) older woman: "Be easier on yourself, too," Cecilia says. Lucius just smiles gratefully, adding to the impact by laying a hand on her head.      "What're you even teaching her for?" Dieck jokes. "Looks like she's a great healer already."      Echidna looks back to study Lilian, in that moment of shock. Unhappy sympathy. "What, you've never been cheered for?" comes out in the same tone as discovering she's been lacking The Vitamin.      Larum's hand rests on the little knife at her belt, whether she means for it to or not. Her eyes are distant and unfocused. "Yeah," she says, nodding at Na-Go and others. "There's always some way forward." But she still stands like someone perched on a precipice, more aligned with what Na-Go doesn't say than what she does. Echidna pats her back in a rough attempt at reassurance.      "I know he's not stupid," she says glumly to Trudy and Echo. "I just hope he's not a martyr."      Cecilia silently picks up on Petra's wounded-solitary-animal vibes, and takes Petra's hand in her own with a firm cool-college-aged-babysitter-like squeeze. "Hold tight," she says, and then takes her along on the next few warps.      As the group starts to move again, Larum looks over at Flamel between rooftop-leaps and bites her lip. "Well," she says, "if you have some magic to connect our hearts... it can't hurt. But it has to leave me able to move. If it comes to the worst..."      Her hand brushes that dagger again. Is she really suggesting killing her father herself?      Ultraman has a tough time making his way to the castle- it's hard to find anywhere to step that isn't either somebody's house or a packed street- but he can make it alongside the others.      About half the rioters are headed to the castle and half to the Tower, oblivious to the fact that Windham's already been deposed; Echolalia can free them up from their soldier-clashes Trudy can sway those numbers castle-ward, accruing a substantial crowd around herself for seeming powerful and motivated. Most are just common folk with improvised weapons at best, but a couple of loyal Eliminean healers are among them.      The castle's already visible ahead, looming above the two- and three-story houses you're running over. It's a concentrically-designed affair, conical green-shingled towers looming over two rings of white stone walls. The centermost tower, Madeleine knows, is the most heavily-guarded- and therefore, almost certainly where King Mordred is being held hostage. With the group's aggregate mobility and pilfered staves, little stands in the way of making it to the inner courtyard.      (Trudy will have to knock down a couple of gates and subdue some peripheral guards if she wants to bring in her growing throng, though.)      Does he have anything to gain? The lip-chewing way Larum looks across at Petra just before arrival says 'no, but...'. "Keeping Etruria whole is the most important thing to him," she says. "I'm sure Chancellor Roartz is threatening the king to make him obey... if there's even a chance that faltering could endanger King Mordred, then..."      "We're still not in a decisive position, either," Cecilia adds. "Galle and Douglas have us and Perceval matched. We're encircled, too. If we fail here..."
Marigold	Outside the castle walls, the guards are all subdued by civilians they can't raise arms against. Within them, there's still resistance. King Mordred must be hostage at the top of that central tallest tower with its arrowslit windows, but simply flying up exposes you to arrow-fire from all the other towers and parapets. (Geed is already getting shot at, in fact.)      There is a sheltered way up from the ground- the tower opens with a heavy barred door to the innermost courtyard, where the locals are landing; fifty gorgeous feet across, white-and-azure stone tiling, moss growing up between, and flower-bushes and trellises at the edges.      It's beautiful. Understated royal elegance. The ugly mood ruins it. A dozen guardsmen, armed in full plate of some exotic metal so bulky it's hard to guess anything about their figures, stand arrayed in front of the door with axes and spears in hand.      And in front of them- it's him. Douglas, the Great General of Etruria. There's no resemblance to Larum, of course. He's severe, built, keen-eyed, perhaps a head shorter than Hector but a head taller than any of his men.      The armor gives him the aura of a monolith. The axe would look right in Echidna's hands, and nobody else's. He doesn't move at all when the first of you arrive, except to don a sleek face-concealing helmet.      "I was wondering when someone would finally put an end to this mockery. Go on, then. Chancellor Roartz and the King are just through me," he says, in a gravelly, tired voice. "They're watching us from up there. I have to be seen to fight you. But--"      "Douglas!! Enough with this insanity! You could've ended this at the start!" Cecilia cries out the moment she warps down, staff pointed at him accusingly. "Cecilia?! So you've--" "All you had to do was show a little faith in me!" "We've all played our parts." "This doesn't have to be yours!"      That's enough to startle his men. By contrast, when Larum slides down a trellis to land alongside her, his men don't react at all- but Douglas looks like he's about to have a heart attack. She stares at him for a brief, heartbroken silence. He visibly restrains himself from going to hug her by the end.      "Larum... thank goodness you're safe. But please. You don't have to see this." "You don't have to make me see this. Please. My new friends can make this right! Can't you trust in all of us?" ". . . I won't leave all of Etruria to 'trust'."      Larum looks haplessly at Flamel. From the tower's highest window, someone throws down a bottle of blood-red wine to shatter. Douglas gets the message, grimaces, and lifts his axe...
Trudy Grimm	"End the occupation!" Trudy calls, pumping up her free hand to rile the crowd gathered around her makeshift mount, "For a free Etruria!" Riding atop the shoulder of a seven or eight foot tall mountain of a man in battle-worn black plate definitely gives her some presence she otherwise doesn't have.     Approaching the sealed gates of the castle itself, the Black Knight doesn't slow down at all. The witch does produce above her tome the Rune of Death, Eiwaz; it joins itself to the Rune of Men, Mannaz, creating a sickeningly yellow-green runic pattern at the base of the gate. As she grasps the combined runes and twists them, the pattern extends upward across the heavy oak boards and iron hinges. Before anyone and everyone's eyes, the wood rots in seconds; a rot that would normally take decades for such carefully treated and maintained lumber. The hinges dry out, rust up, and warp.     By the time the Black Knight is close enough to smash his sword-clad fist into the wood, it has the consistency of brittle foam, shattering before his blade and might. The glow of the runes fades, permitting the villagers entry behind the colossal warrior and his magical mistress.     "Disarm and tie up the guardsmen," Trudy commands her rabble, "Remember they are your countrymen and they deserve at least the mercy of the court."     The Black Knight takes five paces into the courtyard, opposed by the defenders and the General himself. That great heavy blade swings off his shoulder, swivels around, and drives into the stonework at his feet. With both hands free, he presses one fist into the other to crack his knuckles in a disconcertingly loud fashion. Once both hands have been tended to, his helmet-clad head jerks to the left, then the right, with loud pops, then his shoulders roll with some more creaks and snaps.     "General Douglas," Trudy addresses the man as he dons his own helmet, "I won't ask you to stand down, but I would ask you to consider sparing your men injury or death." With a little 'hup', she hops down and stands aside, resting a hand on her hip, "If you must be seen fighting, then consider single combat against my friend, here. The Black Knight."     Beside her, the Knight reaches forward, now, resting his hands on the pommel of his greatsword.
Riku Asakura	The streets are hard to navigate, but thankfully he gets there in line with everyone else.  Instead of having to deal with the gate, he leaps over the wall and gate, making an Ultraman huff as he does so, and lands in the courtyard itself, shaking the ground and causing soldiers to lose their footing if they weren't ready for the shaking that his Ultraman body can mak happen. Arrows and bolts are fired at Geed, who is forced to take the shots.  Thankfully, being very large also means he's very tough.  Sparks rain down from where he's struck, and he's forced to cover his face and body with his arms.  He also produces a barrier from his arms, that helps take the blows, but this lasts until he arrives at the tower itself.   The barrier goes down because he needs to use his arms, and also it won't catch the arrows being shot from behind him.  Ultraman Geed reaches up, aiming to tear at the arrow-slit windows as he goes to try and take out the archers that might be there.  This also opens up places for people to enter.   Once he's sure people want to enter the tower, he aims to try and create a hole at the top, attempting to tear out mortar and brick, tossing it to the ground, and then creating a platform with his hands to help carry up anyone who needs a lift to the top.
Madeleine Cadrasteia	Madeleine eyeballs the heavy, barred door into the tower, unsure if she could bypass it without attracting attention. Then Ultraman Geed strides into the courtyard and she gets an idea. Taking advantage of perhaps the greatest conceivable distraction - a giant space alien - she slips behind one of his enormous feet and begins to climb. Clinging to the more pliable elements of Geed's costume, Madeleine climbs swiftly, coiling around the leg to avoid arrow fire and scrambling up the giant's back to his shoulder. When she gets to the top she pauses just long enough to catch his attention with a momentary salute before running down the length of his extending arm.     As Geed's hand crashes into and through the wall of the tower, Madeleine takes advantage of the clouds of dust and sprays of broken stone as a smokescreen for her own entrance. It's unlikely she'll be able to pick out the king before the rubble clears, so she doesn't immediately engage with the first person she finds. Instead, she keeps clear of the figures in the debris cloud, sticking to the remains of the wall and circling around the tower.     When the pulverized stone finally begins to settle, Madeleine quickly assesses the room and tries to pounce on the best-dressed person in the room who isn't visibly restrained - with any luck it'll be Roartz, or someone else important enough to draw any guards' attention away from their prisoner and toward the huntress. She makes a mental note to get a better idea of what the king looks like next time she interrupts a coup d'etat.
Flamel Parsons	Flamel shakes his head at Larum. "Hey. Trust me, that's headed straight for psychohazard. You don't want to be the one who does something like that. The psychic feedback from it... if things go bad, *really* bad, the healthy thing to do is to cut the link and don't speak to him. There's a lot of pain if you don't. And it doesn't go well." Drifting with his passengers, he accelerates just a little...     Flamel pops out of invisibility near this exchange with Larum and Douglas... He shares the glance with her. "General!!" He turns, plants his left hand's index and middle fingers on his temple, and stances with the right in a near-clenched claw. "A unified Etruria won't be worth anything in an annihilated Elibe! You can't let Bern do this to your continent, your nation -- to your *family!*" He clenches his fist fully, and there's a sound like a vacuum collapse, like fluid flowing into a gap -- a sound where there's a sudden crush of filled-in absence, as Flamel tries to perform a rapid field projection. No portal, no astral body, just a raw and unprotected telepathic relay link. Not for himself, but instead, for Larum. A link that would only work because of their familial bond, as strong for the adopted as it is otherwise.     No attack, he's focusing *all* his strength on getting Larum a telepathic link if he can. He didn't tell her that it would, indeed, leave her motionless in the real world, as she feared. But he also... is worried. Because it leaves both of them more far, far more vulnerable to each other than any immobility would have ever left them. People with as deep a connection as these two, and no Psychoportal safeties, could kill each other just as easily in the astral plane.
Echolalia	Echolalia hops on down from the PsiHand and makes her way into the inner courtyard. She whistles as she sees Douglas but she holds off on striking, at first, because there's some conversation happening and Larum seems nice. Her eyes slant up towards the window when a glass is dropped from it and he says. The words 'I have to be seen to fight you.' ring in her ears. "Wait! No! Don't hold back! Don't look down on us by holding back!" Echolalia says. "Your king is on the line too!" Trudy offers a duel and Echolalia pauses, considering it--because she IS a big fan of duels. But she's a bigger fan ofs howing off. She runs towards Douglas and slides as she approaches the axe, snapping a foot up from the ground towards Douglas's hand, trying to knock the axe out of his hands--or at least hurt his hand enough to make it tougher to swing that big thing around. She twists around for a followup sweeping strike with her leg. "Don't hold back! It'll be okay! We'll make it work!!" With each strike, dust bursts up out of the air from the sheer force and speed of her movement, hovering in the air for a moment before dropping back down to the earth. "Fighting until the day is saved, we can do that! And your boss doesn't have to be in danger neither!" A pause. "Well more danger than he already is you get me!!"
Aidan Proudpick	"What, you've never been cheered for?" A flick of the ear, a turn. Aidan turns his head, watching the expression flicker over Lilian's face, the slow in her step. "People cheer for you all the time. You are always leading the charge, you save places all the time." There's definitely animosity between him and Lilian that's never going to leave. Or is he even trying to remove it here. He's just surprised. Her anger just seems... personal. Directed at other elites. Angry at failures he can attest to personally. Aidan casts his eyes up. He can climb all the way up there, but to what end? There doesn't have to even be a window or a place up there. Instead, he stays on the rooftop, hunkering down. White ribbons of air swirl between his fingers before he grasps them, flexing them like whips. Quickly, he winds them like whips, forcing them into two barriers, walls to slow up the guardsman.
Odette Raskins	The touch to Odette's shoulder and head from Cecilia and Lucius, respectively, draw a surprising amount of stiffness right out of the EMT's shoulders. "Wh-huh? I-I am! Just can't... N-not too much, or I'll get lazy." She murmurs while keeping her gaze fixed on the rooftop for a few moments, pulling the brim of her cap down a bit to try and hide the heat rising to her cheeks. Dieck's comment certainly doesn't help matters there, either, and it takes her that much longer to even get onto Flamel's telekinetic hand with a proudly stupid grin on her face. Still, she could be a better one. If only she could finally figure out what she was missing with using magic. Hitching a ride with Flamel, Odette holds onto... She's not actually sure what she can hold onto, but she definitely tries to hold onto whatever she can on those telekinetic hands of his  or even the hands themselves! "Thanks, Mister Flamel. Would be nice to lie down for a second, but.. N-no time, right?" She comments with a weak chuckle, ignoring her own need for haste to just lie down anyway when she sees Petra sitting as well. While she's riding those hands, she sees Riku turning into that silver giant once again, and she leans over a bit to get a better look. "H-he was with us heading to the Tower, too. But... H-how does a person-sized person become that big?" She asks, looking over at Flamel and Echolalia when she realizes she's hitched a ride alongside her as well. "Miss Rita can do..? Oh, yeah, that'd make sense, but... Eh? H-have you never met her before?" It's not that surprising considering the size of the Multiverse, but she still manages to be a little surprised regardless.   Upon reaching the castle, Odette wishes she had more time to marvel at the architecture. It really is like something out of her video games and shows, but the terrible situation surrounding it makes it impossible to gawk for long. Seeing those archer-defended towers keeps her steps brisk, too, but what truly gets her to finally prepare for a dragged out battle once again is seeing Douglas, the Great General. It takes her a few seconds to realize he's talking, then coughs into her hand once before looking up when he indicates that the Chancellor and the King are both watching him. "I-I get it... You've got a... An audience that you need to satisfy. Then-" She clams up abruptly once Cecilia and Larum confront Douglas, taking advantage of the opportunity to check her duffel bag for what she needs. There's poisons she could use, certainly, but she doesn't want to actually kill the man. Simulating death could be tricky, too, and with the amount of anything she'd need to knock him out without doing irreparable damage at the same time... Odette's attention snaps upwards as she hears that bottle of wine shattering enarby. Flinching away from the noise, she squints slightly at that highest window, then takes out two bottles and a small canister. Wordlessly, she places the bottles inside the canister, closes it up, and then presses a button on it. She tosses it up and down in her hand once, twice, then lobs it at that window in a high arc. The throw isn't anywhere close enough to actually go through the window, but the arc it takes gives it just under two seconds of hang time right in front of that window before it detonates in a flash of light. It's probably much worse for whomever's watching from up there than it is for anyone on the ground, at least. Blinking away a bit of pain from not remembering to look away from that, Odette turns her attention back to Douglas. "N.. Now they won't be able to see for a bit. I-if you're still going to do this, General, then... I-I'd really recommend taking on Miss Trudy's offer. I-I've seen everyone here fight before, and it's always been messy! Very... Messy." Odette's face at that moment looks like she's recalling the horrors of having to deal with the aftermath. It's not completely an act, either, since she still has rather fresh memories of all the blood spilled from the last several battles.
Petra Soroka	"The sea-lady I've heard a bit about? I actually don't know her! She's a psychic, huh... I didn't know!"     Petra idly overhears Flamel and Echolalia talking, and her straining ability to automatically shut off her short term memory and hearing when people start talking about Rita's Dark Secret wavers to let the words through. The suggestion is immediately the funniest thing she's heard in a while-- that, tragically, when they first met, Rita was so deeply ashamed of being a psychic that Petra promised to never learn the truth about her so that she could remain forever Normal in *Petra's* eyes....     Even while trying to avoid it, Petra's absorbed too much evidence to actually believe that. It's still dangerous to contemplate that evidence too much, but her mental slate-clearing is more languid than it's been in the past, and the ironic coincidence makes her giggle to herself. Two girls with two terrible secrets... grappling with their powers and the ways they acquired them... desperate to have a friend with whom they could pretend to be anything else. It's funny to think about, but it really puts into perspective for Petra the extent to which she isn't that person at all anymore. "Hey. Trust me, that's headed straight for psychohazard. You don't want to be the one who does something like that."     Is it a psychohazard to murder your dad? That seems consistent with Lilian, at least, and Larum doesn't seem thrilled to be suggesting it either. Given the looming final tenth of the Seed of Light, and Petra's promise to Angela after, patricide is a surprisingly frequent subject on Petra's schedule, and becoming something of a specialty of hers.     She shakes her head. She shouldn't offer to kill Larum's dad. She doesn't know Larum that well, so that wouldn't be right.     "If you love him, you really shouldn't kill him." "Hold tight,"     Petra yelps as she's pulled along by Ceilia, suddenly forced into being more lively by a (couple years) older woman dragging her around. She hesitates for a moment, and then squeezes Cecilia's hand back. In the half-focused state of ramping adrenaline back up after a post-battle crash, she acquiesces to Cecilia's lead entirely while watching the crowd below.     "... Imagine what they'll say when they hear about you wielding Forblaze to get back here. Who knows if it'll even be possible to convince them that the Tower wasn't a sign from Elimine?" "I'm sure Chancellor Roartz is threatening the king to make him obey... if there's even a chance that faltering could endanger King Mordred, then..."     Petra groans unhappily. "They've totally got a gun to his head right this second, yeah. Just make sure your dad sees it, then send him on his way, and all the talking in the world won't do anything to change his options if Roartz is watching to see how the dialogue goes...."     As the courtyard comes into sight, Petra clicks her tongue frustratedly. "Well, if they're staring at Douglas to make sure he doesn't get convinced to our side, then they have to keep watching as long as you keep talking, Larum. So I'm--"     Petra looks up to the arrowslit being torn open by Geed, then looks at his slightly leaned-forwards back like it's a tempting target for her to parkour up to get to the top. That would be *rude*, though, and she hasn't asked if it was weird to do that earlier today yet, so she falls back on her second option: morphmetal darts smack into the stone wall hard enough to penetrate inches deep, forming sturdy bars like stairs for Petra to run up and join Madeleine in searching for the king.
Desire Stars	I won't leave all of Etruria to 'trust'.     "But Etruria is telling you how it feels, right now!"     Na-Go's Beat Axe catches Douglas' axe, her grip twisting sideways to snare the head. "And even if it weren't, this is bigger than just Etruria," she protests, to the tune of a snap kick from the side, augmented by the Boost armor's flame-spewing thruster.     Behind her, Geats... retreats? Sprinting through the courtyard, he's making a beeline through falling arrows for the falling wine bottle. NA-GO: What are you doing?! GEATS: A riot's no reason to waste good wine.     The Magnum Shooter spits white bolts, knocking aside arrows as the bottle tumbles end over end. Inches from the ground, Geats drops prone and slides, catching it under one arm. As he stands up, he tosses it in the air, catches it, and gives a little salute with it to the tower from which it was dropped.     "There are moments like this happening across this world because of Bern--and don't tell me you don't see that! I do, everywhere I go! Sisters and brothers, parents and children," she says, knee thrusting forward, "Lovers, everyone, torn apart like it's nothing! What's the point of keeping the same lines on a map if there's nothing inside them worth fighting for anymore?!"     Just then, the wine bottle from before goes zipping over Douglas and Na-Go's heads, hurled with the strength of a Kamen Rider. A laser bolt from the Magnum Shooter shatters the bottle and ignites the wine over the soldiers guarding the door, with Geats himself bearing down on the position at a sprint.
Lilian Rook	'What, you've never been cheered for?'     "What?" Lilian blinks at Echidna with less than incredulous surprise. If she'd stuck the landing, she'd look innocently confused by a bizarre statement. Instead, she looks numbly caught out in a lie when she hasn't said anything. "Petra and Angela's people are cheering for me all the time." she says, as a double-edged refutation. "And this is about General Cecilia. And even more, General Douglas."     'But it has to leave me able to move. If it comes to the worst...'     "Then there'll be half a dozen trustworthy people behind you, and they can handle it." Lilian says, with a hint of the awkwardness of someone who knows their opinion hasn't been solicited, and two thirds of the confidence of someone who believes their sincerity will come across. "He's your father, and you can do things for him that none of us can. But that doesn't mean you'll have to shoulder all of the risk yourself."     "We . . . I'd like you to try, and if it doesn't work, I'll take responsibility, and then I'll try, and if even that doesn't work . . ." Lilian waves her hand, suggesting the chain of resort after it without having to say anyone's name like she believes in it. "Being in danger doesn't always mean that things are desperate. Do you understand?"     . . . . . . . .     'Galle and Douglas have us and Perceval matched. We're encircled, too. If we fail here...'     "Same principle." says Lilian. Across the entire journey, she'd still been thinking about the same thing. Her armour and aesthetic dramatically stand out, but they aren't nearly 'alien'; so the Etrurian streets don't particularly worry her compared to the castle. "I can tell that you were an exceptionally gifted student." she says to Cecilia. "People who aren't used to failing always think that their fifth-from-final chance is their last." She tries to laugh a little, and summons up a subdued one by thinking about herself instead. It looks identical from the outside.     "Things would get even more difficult than they are now, so I don't relish the idea; I'd much prefer things to turn around here. But if they don't . . . even if you have to bet on longer and longer odds, you keep doing it; all the way until your last shot is the sword in your own hand."     The castle makes her wish she could stay. Lilian can just barely look past the human blight of the armed guards, with eyes that see nature just a little better than people. It puts her a half-degree less in the mood to fight things out than when she'd entered, but her sword remains over her shoulder instead of sheathed. Douglas himself is what it takes to stop her from moving forward, but his sheer size and the intensity of his martial presence only give her so much pause.     §I almost feel like I'm starting to get used to it. Rutger, Hector, Iðunn, Brunnya, Galle, Elimine . . . This war is just monster after monster, even when it's only their shadow. It's like pins and needles in my chest. I can't tell if I'm exhausted or excited.§     The shattering glass brings her out of reverie. A few seconds of frenzied contemplation turn the situation up and down in her mind, and she doesn't come away with a strong opposition to Douglas' obligation. The void makes her expression harden, verging towards a distasteful grimace.
Lilian Rook	"How kind of them to raise their hand." Lilian says. Her attention drifts, focusing on comparing the action paths of rushing to the King versus letting Petra handle it over the next four minutes. Her eyes remain on Douglas though, and she takes two steps forward. "If you need it look good, General, I understand." she says, projecting her voice again. "But once all is said and done here, who will remember your resistance fondly? The one in the tower, with the King; has he shed his blood for you?"
Marigold	- - - -      Larum nods tensely at Flamel and Petra, before her landing. She looks a little aghast. "Of course. I'm- I'm not going to kill him, I promise. Just..." 'Just'? What's she planning?      She nods at Lilian too, double, though she's starting to shrink in on herself. "'Take responsibility'... I really hope I won't have to burden you with something like that. The only reason this is so complicated is because we care about him, right? So if I could fix it myself... but thank you."      She's holding up well, all things considered, which means 'poorly'.      "... all the way until your last shot is the sword in your own hand."      Cecilia smiles in a way that makes the edges of her face-scar wrinkle, and her eyes land on Lilian's own. "I suppose, somehow, I do tend to forget that. Thank you. I hope Douglas has too."      She's got a faint strained smile for Petra, too. "I'm not a priestess, but who's to say the Tower wasn't a sign?"      - - - -      It's hard to read Douglas's expression under that helmet of his. The way it tilts when the Black Knight squares up, though, implies that under any circumstances but staring down a death sentence in front of his adopted daughter, he might be charmed.      "The Green Lady is correct. I don't think Chancellor Roartz cares for such high-minded things as 'duels'. I have to try my utmost. I can only promise not to finish off the downed." His second hand clanks onto the axe, shoulders squaring.      There's just a second's hesitation. "Only... please. In return, don't kill me before the King is rescued. If I fall, Roartz might give up hope." "We're not killing you at all, father! Please get it through your head!" ". . ."      Douglas's men are well-trained and well-armored, but they're not heroes- especially not when extorted to fight for a cause they don't believe in. Trudy's mob crowds them back against the tower's wall, where they hold the civilians at bay with spears in a panic; when Ace hurls the wine-bottle, it breaks the stalemate with panic, and they start to be overcome. One of the townsfolk is stabbed in the confusion, but a cleric is already there with him.      Douglas gets his axe tangled with Na-Go's right off the bat- and then tries to snag its other head on the Black Knight's, binding all three of their weapons at once. Of course, he can't disarm them both just like that... and doesn't need to. Sparing a hand from the weapon-lock for just a second, he snap-throws a handaxe to ricochet off the courtyard wall and scythe through the crowd of Elites.      "I won't be remembered fondly by anyone," he barks out to Lilian. Harsh kick to the Black Knight's chest for distance; staggering a step from Na-Go's knee, getting combo'd by Echolalia off it, and then swinging a hook at both to disentangle and pick the axe back up; shoulder-twisting swing at Riku's achilles heel like he's felling a tree; flat-strike against Aidan's wind-walls, testing if he can shatter them.      It's enough of a whirl to make his cape billow. Nobody here would call him fast, but it's an uncomfortable degree of not-slow for someone that heavily armored.      "But Etruria is telling you how it feels, right now!"      "I'm listening to how it feels. I'm listening to the rightful anger of the people. Even after you rescue Mordred, Etruria will need someone to take the blame! Perceval has a life ahead of him. Roartz is a nobody. When all this is over...!"
Marigold	Rutger circles him in a menacing iai stance, forcing his attention off the others to guard against her- but she hasn't drawn her blade. Lilian knows why. Echidna rushes in to shoulder-check him in a vulnerable moment, matching brawn to brawn- but she catches herself instinctively going for a finisher, and he batters her back when she hesitates. Cecilia bitterly holds a spell's last gesture at her fingertips, not sure enough that it won't kill him.      Formidable though Douglas might be, he doesn't have solid backup like Narcian did, or a plan and a divine weapon like Galle. Outside of these constraints, you could've defeated him already. But within them...      Larum takes and squeezes Flamel's hand, shutting her eyes for the familial connection. He projects her consciousness into Douglas's, and it's easy to see the moment the Great General's whole body seizes up. A choked noise is swallowed. Again, if you were trying to kill him...      She slumps back into Flamel's arms, consciousness wholly dedicated to the link. But, at least for the moment, Douglas strains and shudders, fighting to remain conscious in the real world while his daughter tugs at his heart.      "Gahhh. When all of this is over, tell them I was a coward. That I only wanted power. How else are they going to heal?" It sounds like a rhetorical question. But there's one little, desperate note that shows it might be a plea.      - - - -      Ultraman Geed tears open a hole in the tower, and even half-blinded blinded by the flashbang, the people inside scramble like a kicked anthill. Predictably, it's dense with armed guards up there in what looks like it must be a royal bedchamber- but maybe unpredictably, they're clad in Bernish red.      The jumble of guards, lightly-armored assassins, and totally unarmed messengers makes it look like they were in a tizzy before the breach and flash. In a panic, several of them snap-throw javelins or hurl fireballs in the vague direction of his huge face- and, incidentally, Madeleine and Petra coming through the same hole. Either way, there's three ranks deep of terrified spearmen between them and the miserable-looking frail man who must be King Mordred, too feeble to need to be tied to his chair.      It's a shame, because the panic reaction of one of the less blinded assassins is to immediately put a glinting blade to the King's neck and start to drag it across.
Trudy Grimm	Na-Go dives on Douglas; which throws a kink into Trudy's honorable single combat idea, but she doesn't think too much of it. There is only the jerk of her head to command the Black Knight forward to join the melee. Sword wrenches from pavement only to drag across it in a stream of sparks in the wake of the Black Knight's dash. The first swing, a vicious upward arc, goes wide. The downward followup slam catches in the horns of the General's axe.     While Douglas must relinquish part of his control to throw his hand-axe, the Black Knight is wielding his own weapon one-handed. The left hand's fingers tighten, ancient leather creaking beneath worn, blackened articulated steel. Without breaking the weapon lock at all, the Black Knight thrusts his shoulder forward and leads with his fist, aiming a punch squarely at Douglas' helmet-clad head.     "Why would I lie?" Trudy calls out. She hasn't moved from where she unleashed the Knight's fury, and as such that thrown hand-axe finds the end of its journey in her side. The blood is, thankfully, bright crimson. Given her proclivities, one might be forgiven for expecting something wholly unnatural instead.     "There is a difference between cowardice..." With a grunt, she wrenches the weapon from her flesh. Dropping it, she clutches the wound to apply pressure until one of the clerics can get to her, "...And coercion, you know?"     The witch straightens her stance, planting her foot in spite of the pain shooting up her side, "You won't be remembered fondly by anyone..?" Raising one bloodied hand, she sweeps it aside towards Laurum, "With blindness like that, it's a wonder you became a General at all! Are you a blind fool or a warrior!?"     The Black Knight's fist snaps back like a serpent. In the same motion he steps back, dragging his sword free of the axe's horns. His back foot slams down hard enough to chip the stonework. In one sweeping motion he brings the greatsword up over his head and at last grasps it in both hands, "Speak quickly, now! Are you truly a coward who would take the easy way out or are you a warrior who learns from his mistakes?!"
Riku Asakura	Inside the body of Ultraman Geed, Riku makes a pained sound as the axe comes across the heel of Geed.  There are sparks from where the axe finds purchase, causing the Ultraman to nearly cave in and fall to the ground which might be a disaster for the group inside.  He also doesn't fight back, by stepping down on Douglas despite how much of a jerk reaction that might be.   Groaning in pain, Geed is forced to weather the blow, leaving it up to his allies to protect him from getting another shot on his legs before he can do what he needs to do for the King.  He stands up again, favoring his struck heel, and reaches into the hole he made into the upper layer. He's careful not to get in the way of Madeline or Petra, instead running interference for them so they can get to the king.   His hands come down, aiming to strike at the various enemy guards and assassins.  The one's not immediately fleeing and attempting to strike them with his hands as he attempts to keep the pressure up.  It's also hard because he's attempting to not kill anyone, but between his superhumanity and his size, it's like playing in a sandpit.   This also means he can't reach the king when the rouge assassin goes for his throat.  A combination of being too slow from the injury on his leg, restricting his movements in the tower, and the smoke and debris falling prevent him from seeing it in time.  "No!" he calls out to the assassin, perhaps warning someone faster than he is to try and get to the king before he winds up dead.
Lilian Rook	Lilian watches Rutger's hand before she watches the other Elites fight. She knows exactly how they will, and can easily predict that Douglas is outmatched this many to one; the thought of it alone puts enough of a bad taste in her mouth about adding another one to the pile that she can't even bring her own to bear. The swordswoman who won't grasp a hilt unless she is ready to be filled with adrenaline; the one who won't draw a blade save to survive; tells her all she needs to know.     The next five seconds are more important.     'How else are they going to heal?'     "The same way everyone else does. With half the closure they want."                 -----[stop]-----     Lilian angles herself towards the tower, crouches down to a sprinter's start, sword over her shoulder, and mentally times the length of the phase she'll need. A second later, the upper layer of flagstones dislodge into a semicircular ripple of jaggedly upturned tiles behind her.                 -----[start]-----     Lilian's gauntleted hand strikes the inside of the assassin's elbow. In the same instant her arm stiffens and the rest of her behind it throws them across the room and through the closed door. Black magic wicks off her like ink underwater while she turns on the others, sword moving too fast to see as she strikes out at the sequence of nearest to furthest daggers.
Madeleine Cadrasteia	Someone's got a blade to the king's neck. Shit. There's not even time enough for Madeleine to draw her bow. Instead, her snap reaction is to throw her hunting knife - already in hand - halfway across the room and into the assassin's wrist, hoping to loose the killer's blade from his grip. As the blade strikes home her mind catches up to her muscles and she tries something else, too. In just the time it takes to let out a breath, she's released a cloud of icy vapor that swirls around the king's neck and hardens into a sort of protective collar. Anywhere else on the body it could serve to reduce circulation and swelling around a wound, but here and now it'll have to be enough that it can keep any other blades away and, maybe, keep the king from bleeding out freely.     It'll have to be enough, too. With her focus solely on the king and his would-be killer, Madeleine is barely defending herself against the spearmen, and suffers badly for her inattention. Her chainmail and natural toughness are sufficient to keep her from being impaled through the gut, but a number of spears find purchase in her extremities, one of them staying lodged in her leg for the moment. The huntress's outpouring of ice-breath cuts off with a startled cough, and she diverts her attention to getting back and out of reach of the spears. In a moment she has her own weapon in hands, holding it like a staff to bat away questing spear-tips.
Echolalia	Echolalia startles a little at being called The Green Lady but, well, she IS green. "Oh! My name's Echolalia. And why would I kill you? The purpose of martial arts is to gift yourself freedom and gift freedom to others." Her body spins around on the floor like she's breakdancing before she hops up and then leans waaaay back, hands pressing against the floor as he throws a punch towards her, the fist slicing across the bridge of her nose and sending a splatter of green blood against the courtyard's cobblestone. Echolalia handsprings off, swinging her legs up into the air before twisting her body back into a standing position. ''I won't be remembered fondly by anyone.'' "Don't say that, your daughter's right here." Echolalia frowns. "Maybe you won't be fondly remembered as a General--I can understand why nobody would want to cheer for making an unfun practical choice when given an impossible one. But you're not going to die. We just need to make it showy and flashy so the Chancellor is so overcome with how awesome this fight is he keeps his eyes off the King for long enough. So let's do it! Give him a big show that he forgets about murder...!" And then she flashes Douglas a cocky, self-assured, and frankly playful grin. "C'mon...! You can do better than that..!" Douglas seizes up before she can strike again and Echolalia stumbles herself in surprise and also while her sense of honor makes her struggle against fighting an opponent being psionically heart-tugged--but she supposes that she already said it wasn't a duel, so it only slows her so much. ''Tell them I was a coward. That I only wanted power. How else are they going to heal?'' "...They'll have to find a way to heal without feasting on a corpse to do so." Echolalia says, swinging both her hands for the side of Douglas's head in a clap. "They'll have to heal with the truth. Do you serve a kingdom that must be misled in order to survive? Or is this a strong land with the ability to weather difficult truths and painful realities? Trust in your country." She slides a foot back, pushing back the dust as she spins into a roundhouse for Douglas's right arm. "Should we hurt our dear comrade's heart so easily?"
Aidan Proudpick	It's like dragging through mud, pulling the axe into the wind wall. It slows Douglas down for a moment before ripping all the way through and dispersing it. Aidan's head snaps around to the axe pinging off the wall. His hands grab at the edge of the roof underneath him and rolls over them. The axe sings over him, clipping the fur on the tail as he topples to the ground. With little time to prepare, his body twists to land the best he can, but he takes a hard slam to the shoulder. "Gahhh. When all of this is over, tell them I was a coward. That I only wanted power. How else are they going to heal?" Aidan glances up from the ground towards Douglas, pulling at the gun on his hip. "I know whatcha mean. It's gonna be easier for people to just want to blame you. You were already here. The people already hate you. All you gotta do is sacrifice the rest of your life for their happiness!" Two fingered load, two egg shapes go into the pistol with a quick shove then a rapid push of the weapon to lock it back up. "But you gotta live! You gotta live for your family, and you gotta live to watch what you did! It'll be your job for the rest of your life to make them happy." Aidan fires both spheroids from the pistol, aiming for Douglas' arms. Lightly packed goo in seaweed base 'plastic'. A gluey foam that bursts out, spreading out quickly, warming in the air and hardening into a dense brick substance.
Odette Raskins	Nobody wants to kill anyone. That's good! Hearing that from Douglas himself is actually a huge relief for Odette, since it means she can be a little less panicked about trying to put anyone's bodies back together during hte chaos of battle. Of course, with the Chancellor still forcing this battle, she still has to consider how to get through this without either Larum nor Douglas seeing the worst psosible outcome. "It's... A-always like that, huh?" Odette grimaces as she stuffs her hand back into her duffel bag, picking out several syringes out with her fingertips and a bottle to load them all up a clear solution. "Some big.. Jerk in power, making everyone fight each other over nothing... O-of course we're not letting anybody kill each other! Just..." She needs an opening, but things are already starting to get worse. She sees that one townsperson getting sabbed, and she starts to rush over, but seeing a cleric with him keeps her head in the encounter with Douglas and his men instead. "Even after you rescue Mordred, Etruria will need someone to take the blame!" "N.. No it doesn't! A-and even if they did, blaming a... A hostage wouldn't make anyone happy, anyway. It definitely won't make Miss La.. Y-your family or your soldiers happy, either!" Odette yells at Douglas as she finishes loading all those syringes and holds them between her fingers in a fan like shape with both hands. "Nobody would blame a hostage for doing what it took to protect themselves or their families.. Th-their friends, even. I-if anyone should be blamed, it's the monster that made that hostage do those things.. A-and that's the one everyone would feel good about blaming, too!" Even though the soldiers are being swarmed, there still needs to be a little more push to get them to lay down their arms. Swallowing lightly as she psyches herself up, Odette circles around the side of Trudy's mob and the townspeople so she can get a better view of Douglas' men.  Even with their densely packed armor, she can still see flashes of cloth and padding with their movements where they might need some level of mobility to even back up at all. Of coruse, just throwing the syringes at them wouldn't be enough. No, they need to know she's throwing them, and that there's some reason to give in. Swallowing again, Odette tries not to let her nerves get to her. "L-let's see if you can w... Uh. Withstand my sleep poison, then! C... Courtesy of The Company!" She stammer-shouts out to the guards, trying and failing at not sounding too embarrassed at that attempt at theatrics. Odette's aim's still spot on as ever, at least, as she starts flinging the loaded syringes at Douglas' men rapidly, aiming for exposed cloth and flesh with injections full of highly-potent sleep aids.
Desire Stars	Only... please. In return, don't kill me before the King is rescued. We're not killing you at all, father! Please get it through your head!      Na-Go turns her head briefly to give Larum an affirming nod. Douglas' hand-axe strikes her shoulder on its expertly arranged trajectory, sending a spray of sparks outwards and drawing a stifled yelp from her--but she stands her ground.      *Wonder if that's barred.* As it curves through the crowd, Geats jukes it with a whip of his upper body. He lifts the Magnum Shooter, seemingly to return fire, but the bolt passes through the gap between Douglas' arm and his torso, through to the door behind him. Etruria will need someone to take the blame! Perceval has a life ahead of him. Roartz is a nobody. When all this is over...!      "Then blame Zephiel! I'm sick and tired of good people lining up to throw themselves onto the fire *he* lit!"      Na-Go brings her axe up to block the hook from Douglas, the impact carrying a resounding metal clang that pushes her back. Her solidly planted feet dig furrows into the ground as she loosens up on her grip to go for a thrust with the axe. It won't do any good; from her position lower down and with her shorter reach, there's no hope that she'll penetrate his armor. She knows it, too--which is why her fingers press down on the frets and she 'strums' with a standing axe kick.      The 'melody of courage,' a pounding dance anthem, is felt as tangibly as it's seen. Colorful, shifting leger lines bear the notes as the subwoofers in her armor bounce them into the air, reinvigorating her allies to fight longer and hit harder. How else are they going to heal?      "They need a leader," the winded Kamen Rider answers. "Not a scapegoat. And your daughter needs you."      Geats claps Na-Go's shoulder as he rushes past to break through the door, and she's there with him not long after--overtaking him, in fact. The ascent up the tower is much louder, thanks to the whine of the Boostriker. A hand extended in the blink-of-an-eye as she passes is taken, and the two Riders ascend the tower on the back of the performance bike.      Na-Go drifts as they come into the top chamber; the hike sideswipes several would-be assailants as Geats leaps off of it. *Looks like Lilian got the closest one. Wouldn't put it past the others to try.*      Flying spread-eagle over the room, he tracks one with the Magnum Shooter; two more with the articulated wrist-mounted cannons the Magnum armor provides. A momentarily thunderous burst of triggerpulls sees a swarm of white bolts flying through the room--he sticks the landing on the wrist of a fourth, striking out with a knee to the jaw and sweeping the room for anyone else that might try it.
Flamel Parsons	"How else are they going to heal?"     Flamel pulls back, holding Larum. His eyes dart to the others, and he zips back, keeping invisible so that no interlopers get the brilliant idea to "help" Douglas with a lucky shot. But he can't help but try to integrate their arguments, synthesize something decisive. How does healing happen? What does it mean, for a mind, for *many* minds, to heal? What compelling case can he make?     "It's a wonder you became a General at all!"     "There-- you know what changes people's morale! You know what unifies them! It isn't a declaration of some morally compromised weakling coward -- that can make them *angry* but it can't make them *healed!*" Flamel calls out, circling around Douglas and keeping up a steady fire of bruising psychic energy blasts.     "The same way everyone else does. With half the closure they want."     "Because an angry justification like that feels real, in the moment before you're there, but it doesn't feel real after! It doesn't even feel real *during*, it just... fakes its reality in your mind before you get there. And if you're dead before you reach it, even worse!" He's gotta keep a *lot* of distance, and maintain his shield and invisibility frequently, because of how injured he is from the fight in the tower...     "...They'll have to find a way to heal without feasting on a corpse to do so."     "Think about it! If you want Etruria to live through what Bern is doing, if you want Etruria to come out of this with any sense of national worth or integrity, you need to be there to tell whatever neo-zephielites show up in ten years exactly what the truth is! Maybe most people will see you as a man who made a mistake -- you die now and there's still going to be plenty to see you as a martyr!" His gestures are accusing, and project more and more psychic force.     "Nobody would blame a hostage for doing what it took to protect themselves or their families"     "No-- the people, Etruria, they *will* hate you, there will be people for years and years that spit on your name. You won't have power, you won't have respect, you won't even have sympathy. But..."     He glances back the way he last saw Lucius. "I've been learning. You stick with your mistakes, you let them be permanent if they have to, because people need to learn from them. There's no way for anyone to be guided into a brighter future if every flawed candle gets snuffed out! So *live with it!* Live with *only* the love of the ones who understand you, and keep your feelings alive so they can stop this from happening again! Be there in their lives, so that you know the signs that your daughter is about to make the same mistakes you did and you can protect her, so that you can yell at the future generals who would make your mistake! And so that there's still a continent of Elibe for Etruria to survive on!!"
Marigold	Geats blasts a hole in the door behind Douglas- not an ample one, but enough to squeeze through, if need be. Through it, he catches a glimpse of a man in important-looking robes scrambling down the stairs. There's still a bit of resistance between him and them- but with Odette pitching her sedative needles, and giving at least a few of Douglas's lingering guard reasons not to dodge (or pretend they've been hit, badly), that's thinning out.      Douglas recoils backwards with the Black Knight's sharp headbutt, his helmet tumbling off. He retaliates by slamming his axe down hard enough that it shatters- either against the Knight's body or, if he dodges, the ground- and then gets buffeted backwards by Echolalia again. Blocking the clap with one arm, the roundhouse still catches him.      When he falls down to his knees, even though he's kept his voice noble and level, it's plain to see the abjectly miserable look on his face while he looks up at the raised blade.      "Ghhhh. I tore the kingdom apart to save Prince Elffin... I tore my life apart to save the kingdom...! Hahahh, when does an old man get to rest?"      "You've never been that easy on me, Douglas," Cecilia says, still holding her spell, with a peculiar rough fondness. "And please don't speak in front of your daughter so."      "Don't say that, your daughter's right here."      "And your daughter needs you."      "... you know the signs that your daughter is about to make the same mistakes you did"      "She really does think of me as...?"      His gauntleted fist clenches until the metal creaks. His face creases with heavy, heart-squeezing, nameless feeling. A man who'd thought he'd braced himself to lose everything finds out he has a little more to lose.      The psychic link between Douglas, and limp Larum in cloaked Flamel's arms, draws 'taut' until it's visible. Then it snaps, with a palpable radiation of--      *that kindly man who took you in off the street, and that girl you hoped would really see you as her father, but a commoner like you shouldn't taint his reputation so, and it's arrogant to think you could replace what she's lost.*      Larum wakes, and squirms from Flamel, and rushes across the courtyard. Douglas's shoulders slump decisively, his self-destructive resolve shattered. Neither of them can quite manage words for a moment after that; just a little breathless choke.      In the hug, she draws the dagger from her belt, and in the sunlight a strange poison gleams on it- maybe she had the same idea as Odette? But she looks up at the tower rescue, decides she doesn't need it, and drops it to the cobbles to hug with both arms.      "... I'm sorry I sent you away," he finally manages. And she laughs. "Well, otherwise I wouldn't have met her," Echidna breathes with a half-laugh, after bullying a mostly-sedated guard with one hand. "Ah... I'm just sorry I didn't come back sooner..."      Larum does manage to twist around, look back at Flamel, Trudy, and Echo, and give them a sparkling misty-eyed wink.
Marigold	Lilian snap-batters the immediate assailant away so abruptly that King Mordred is left gasping and rubbing the thin red line on his throat in shellshocked, hollow-eyed disbelief. The remaining melee is easier to clean up than numbers suggest: it's too many spearmen in too tight a space to fully bring their spears to bear. With Madeleine keeping the king safe and Geats thinning the Bernish soldiers out, it doesn't take long to give the king breathing room.      "Who... who are you...? Is this-" The King looks around, bleary-eyed. "You're not Bern...?" He's, unfortunately, not going to be a dynamic figure himself.      Still, the structural compromise of the tower exposes the King to new hazards. A couple of arrows from other towers, fired by particularly vengeful or Bern-aligned archers, sail up through the gap to land near him. Pounding feet echo up the stairs from below; who knows how many other assassins Bern has. An errant fireball splashes off the tower's masonry a floor down. And--      There's a dark shape, just a thousand feet away, breaching the cloud layer like a hawk. You've seen that maneuver before. The crisp aerobatics of the swoop can only mean one thing. It's--      Wait, that's not Galle.      Ten seconds later, Melady's wyvern lands hard on the stony ledge that Geed's provided, flapping its wings to brake. Princess Guinivere- god, her royal clothes are a mess- clings to its back, and then holds out a hand towards Lilian and the King.      "Saint, is it a relief to see-" "Princess, we're being shot at." "Right- just get him on! We'll get him out!"
Trudy Grimm	The miserable, defeated look on Douglas' face makes no mark on the Black Knight's faceless helmet, cast with the sun behind him, his sword held high. The indentation on his breastplate where the axe struck shine with bared steel, a mark in the corroded metal left by a now-broken weapon. Such a blow would crush the ribcage of a living man, the nature of the Black Knight is-- however-- hardly a secret by this point.     Larum charges in. The undead warrior tenses the creaking muscles in his biceps and shoulders. The chipped zweihander moves just a touch further back; winding up.     "Stop." Trudy's voice finally gives him pause. With a grinding sound, his helmet turns until the corner of the eye-slit can behold his wounded master. There's a moment where it seems as if the towering Knight might disobey, the leather of his gauntlet palms creaking against the hilt of his weapon. At long last, he lets out an echoey groan and lowers the greatsword to his side.     A knife is dropped from Larum's hands. Like a hawk sighting a rabbit, the Black Knight's helm jerks downwards. His knees bend with an unpleasant cracking noise as he stoops to pick it up in his free hand. After a moment, his sightline shifts down his body at the distinct lack of a place to put a dagger. Eventually he pulls his bracer loose, sliding the blade in between the leather and metal to keep it secure and mostly out of sight.     Trudy lets out a relieved sigh, then shifts her gaze up the castle face when a wyvern crashes into the opening Geed created and the arrows sailing into it. Her gaze shifts to the Black Knight, who in turn meets her eyes with what passes for his own. There is no command spoken this time; the Knight simply crouches where he stands, then leaps, hurling himself up into the nearest tower and upon the archers atop it-- sword in hand. At least he can create enough chaos to make the escape less harrowing.