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Owner	Pose
Marigold	Lycia, March of Araphen, near Bern's border      What-was-once Castle Araphen.      Rarely can anything done to masonry be called 'gore'. But this turns the stomach all the same. "Gone", as the ragged soldier had said, is only a slight poetic exaggeration. The early morning sun shines down on the grassy meadow where two mountain ranges nearly touch, and Castle Araphen lies mangled like the discarded shell of an eaten crab. Crematory ashes, charred bones, and candlewax-runny armor are heaped against its black-scorched walls like snow-drifts. It smells like an extinguished candle more than a battlefield.      Its outer fortifications have been run over, as if a stampede of beasts had just slammed through. The inner walls are gouged into too, showing the residual meat of bloodsoaked carpets and splintered furniture inside. Soldiers in red armor patrol around it in sparse small groups like ants crawling on the ruined hulk.      The hurry of Roy's army to get here has turned to hushed hesitation. Roy, Guinivere, and Merlinus crouch just inside the treeline, not yet daring to step into the castle's clearing. Further back, Lucius murmurs comforts to his children and shows them how to keep out the smell with handkerchiefs. Dieck confers with Shanna about strategy with an air of dread that even she can sense, and Marcus hesitates in advising his pupils, stroking his jaw in horrified fascination along with the archer you might've glimpsed before.      "They've left only a skeleton force behind. This many men couldn't have done it," Roy mutters, trying to keep the quiver out of his voice. "What could have? "Not Brunnya, certainly. Her Fimbulvetr isn't..." "Lord Roy. There's nothing for us here. It's not even a fort. We have to go." "Merlinus. Lord Hector would have certainly held the gate, wouldn't he?" "I... yes, he would. And I don't see his armor there. Then you're saying-" "They've taken prisoners." "Or he's a late arrival too... and then we should spare him the ambush." "Then we're in agreement."      Merlinus sighs explosively and rubs his face, while Roy exhibits a stunning ability not to look smug. "... Lance, Alen, Marcus. I can see stables past the outer walls, to the left of the keep itself. Stop them from getting mounted, we can't let Bern send word to any patrols. Dieck, you and your crew clean up the patrols outside once we've pressed in. The rest of us will--" "Hey."      Chad slips around a tree and leans into the conversation, dainty handkerchief wrapped around his mouth. It makes him look a little more scoundrel-ish. "I know the inside of Castle Araphen. This key fits all the locks." "You lived there?" Roy says incredulously. "Didn't say that. But when we're in, let me lead. I know where they'd be keeping prisoners."      Roy and Merlinus trade looks. Lucius just looks uncomfortable. "... Alright. If you're sure you can handle yourself," Roy finally says, with a little comforting smile. Chad just nods, his eyes still hard.
Ru Li Cheng	The sense of it is overpowering.      Candlewax armor that tastes of scorched flesh and liquified metal. Blackened bones, calcium charred to charcoal. Human ashes. The iron tang of blood on carpets.      Ru Li Cheng cannot cover his face with a handkerchief. He cannot gag his mouth or cover his nose. He can retract his divine senses, of course, close the bubble, but then he would be useless to them - useless and unable to pinpoint the location of the patrols, useless and unable to help Chad guide them.      Eight arrows.      He wavers, for a moment, then turns into the unoccupied bushes and vomits. When he rises again, attempting to look dignified, his face is very slightly gold-tinged and hot.      "I...I will go with you," Ru Li manages over another wave of nausea as Chad volunteers, "I can see the soldiers beyond walls, beyond...beyond gates. I know where they...they are, and will be, perfectly. So if you are with me, as long as...you can guide me, I can ensure we do not get caught."
Flamel Parsons	Flamel is quick to agree. "Good reasons to stay. And one more. I need the castle ruins if I'm going to use my psychometric clairvoyance. If we want an answer to what *could* have done this..." He nods with the others, confirming that they'd better clear the ruins out. What's les of Castle Araphen needs handling with respect. And... "It's not right to leave it like this."     He shrugs his suit jacket of and adjusts his sunglasses. When he plants two fingers on each palm, there's soft mechanical clicks, like weaponry being loaded. "Good plan. Make sure they don't know what we're doing. For now, I'm sticking with Chad." He vanishes into invisibility, flickering like someone changed the channel, hijacking the brain's ability to avoid thinking about a problem.     He taps the kid's shoulder. "Mind if I share some of your memories to enhance my clairvoyance?" If he's allowed... Then Flamel will do something important on the approach. For the allies, during the approach to Araphen, he'll project the information his Clairvoyance picks up. A mix of Chad's memories of Araphen, and Araphen's own "memories" of its strongest recent emotional footprint. They might be something like translucent ghostly images of what happened just before, just during, or just after the event. But... they might very well be scrambled by all this violence, too.
Odette Raskins	In an instant, Odette realizes how dry her throat is. The sight of the castle's remains halts her breath for several moments at the tension building up back there enough that it hurts, and she has to take a moment to step back. Even though she hadn't seen the battle firsthand, simply imagining what force could've done so much brings to mind that first battle she had seen, and the fear starts coming back. She distracts herself in however slight way she can by joining Lucius with the children, passing out surgical masks that might be a little too big for them. "If there's prisoners, then there's probably... Um. Th-they're probably injured, too. There's still time." Odette draws in a shaky breath in between statements, apparently sharing that sentiment despite the rather clear look of wanting to be anywhere but here. Looking over at Chad, she actually breathes out something resembling a sigh of relief, albeit one that's still shaky. "I-I'll be with you, too." She remarks after Ru Li, clutching the strap of her medical bag tightly to keep it from moving around too much and risk giving away their location (even next to people talking). "S... Someone's gotta make sure anyone being held prisoner can come back out on their own feet, right? Can't risk them getting captured again, or worse if they're... Um. Already bleeding in there and haven't been treated yet."
Blemishine	The sense of dread that came with that terribly wounded soldier stumbling into their camp, and the news he brought... it's not quite enough to give justice to what they actually lay eyes upon. 'Gone' is a more apt descriptor than anyone could have imagined, and as they all take to the treeline, Blemishine's hand comes up to her mouth and nose in a combination of heart-sinking awe and keeping the terrible stench in the air out.     "T-This is... terrible... there's no way only Bern's soldiers could have done something like this. The destruction-- ...and the charring..." It's one time she might regret having such acute eyesight. It lets her take in every horrendous detail of Araphen's current state, even from here. She can't afford to look away from it. "Are things like this how all of Bern's campaigns have made it so far...?"     It's not a pleasant thing to think about. But the possibility of prisoners helps center her mind back in the now, and what has to be done. She takes a deep breath, despite - or maybe because of - the smell hanging in the air.     "...Sir Marcus, Lance, Alen?" Blemishine turns to glance at the wizened knight and his two charges with a furrowed brow. "Would you mind if I accompanied you, to prevent their men from mobilizing? I can keep up, I promise. And I'll be able to make sure none of them try to slip away otherwise."     She's worried about Chad, to be certain, but with how much aid he's already getting... she has a feeling he'll be just fine. He's already proving himself reliable, huh?
Angela	Ceri hasn't even had the chance to teach anyone anything but she is rolling along with Tennant who is still holding the Hokma pad. "My god," Hokma says. "I haven't seen levels of brutality like this since the Smoke War." "Mmm..." Tennant slides their goggles over their eyes and blows smoke through their pipe, their rifle slung over one shoulder. "Boss, what'd The Manager mean when he said he knew what you did." "...It isn't important right now," Hokma says. "Let your insatiable curiousity be at service to Merlinus's task. Your rifle should be able to pick off any stragglers without endangering any allies." Tennant doesn't argue, approaching Merlinus and adds, "I can help out here, Sir. If there's no allies near the target point I can pick off anybody trying to flee from a fair distance." Tennant says. They are smart enough to not start babbling about movies right now. Ceri rolls towards Chad, "Then we'l be in your care. Thank you, Chad." The rapier is held in her hands and she doesn't ask how Chad got the key or knows how to sneak around here. She takes a look around. "This kind of battle happening so quickly... They must have had some sort of secret weapon they couldn't have expected, otherwise a siege should have lasted far longer especially with this much devastation..."
Shinmyoumaru Sukuna	'"Gone. All of it. Gone."' Shinmyoumaru Sukuna assumed it was an exaggeration. The people were gone, maybe; fled or dead. But how do you lose an entire castle? But she wasn't expecting it to be like this, burned and broken and even melted. She's getting a whole education in disgusting things this month and she can't even see the worst of the interior from out here. Shinmyoumaru has also learned how to tie a handkerchief around her face, because she listened in. She even had spare... Well, they weren't quite handkerchiefs, but scraps of cloth, bits and pieces from things she's worked on. She seems to have a lot of stuff stashed away in that flying bowl of hers. She has one worn now and has enough for at least a handful of others. "I'll come in too," Shinmyoumaru says, her voice without the cheerfulness it had at the camp. "I can help, they won't spot me if I don't want to be, and I can make it hard for them to chase us inside if it comes to that! And I can make it easy to carry people out... I can bring everyone in my bowl if I really have to." She grips the edge of her bowl, leaning forward for a moment and staring intently at the castle. It looks like just staring, but she's shifted her attention and focus slightly, and is looking for bright points of magic; if someone's left a spell going, if the fires were set by magic and they're not all gone, if someone's carrying or stashing a powerful magic item in there (she would never find a weak one at this distance).
Madeleine Cadrasteia	Madeleine, too, is struck by the devastation stretched before the company. She's used to telling herself that she's 'done worse to better people', but this is not the sort of damage she's used to seeing. She's young for an Excrucian, and wasn't around for the brutal first movements of her people's war against the gods. Subtle corruptions, assassinations, sabotage, those were what she had trafficked in. Not wholesale slaughter, not *this*. The only other time she's seen this much death was on the Union Busan.     "Lance, Alen, Marcus. I can see stables past the outer walls, to the left of the keep itself. Stop them from getting mounted, we can't let Bern send word to any patrols."     Madeleine nods at the suggestion. "I'm better out in the open than indoors. I'll help them." She takes point for the knights, hiding herself both physically behind ruined buildings and metaphysically from the minds of any onlookers - even if the team is spotted, Madeleine's significance may slip notice entirely. Four knights is cause for less alarm than three knights and an Otherworlder. She keeps her eyes peeled for patrols as she leads the band toward the stables, taking as much advantage of her superior night-vision as possible by staying away from the scattered lights of Bernish patrols and stray fires.
Trudy Grimm	The witch and the old scholar reside in the treeline along with those planning the military retaking of what's left of Castle Araphen. While Trudy pays attention to the planning itself, Grimnir strokes his beard while peering out over the wreckage from such a safe distance.     "What do you suppose could liquify metal, so? The soldier who alerted us was similarly-- molten." There's an air of him closing one eye, though he only really has the one eye, when he sideglances towards Trudy, "Múspell?"     "Oh I have my doubts to that, but I suppose we'll have to take a closer look once everything is..." She glances towards the crumbled walls, "Cleaned up."     "I'll leave that to you and your friends, here," the old man comments, closing his one good eye.     Trudy's gaze shifts back to Roy and Guinivere as she lifts the Grimoire in one hand. The buckle unfastens itself such that the book flips open. Above the pages, a sickly green rendition of Eiwaz, the Death Rune, carves itself into the air.     "It should be a simple matter to enter under cover of a convenient distraction, no?" Her free hand sweeps to the side and she raises both, her lips spreading in a wide, sharp-toothed smile, "So many fell, here. That much is clear. But a woman of my talents knows-- how much they cry for even one more moment. One more swing. One more block. One more step. Even one more second to fulfill their honored oaths."     She turns her attention back to the ruined castle, "...Isn't that right, soldiers of Araphen?"
Aidan Proudpick	Destruction on this scale is nothing new, but usually it's where a giant monster has rampaged. Some sort of big enemy they already can identify just by fame alone. This.. this is something else. Knowing that an army, already a tremendous army, led by a man of great resolve, is something else entirely. Knowing they have something that can just do this. "So much for armor being useful," Aidan mutters as he looks over the armor. He picks up his voice, "Can Wyverns do this?" He turns over to Roy. The smell of blood hits him and he's back in the ocean, surrounded by human chum. A tree makes a good brace for him to stand up against, taking a moment to suck in three sharp breaths. Then a slow exhale. Dieck, you and your crew clean up the patrols outside once we've pressed in. "Oh, I'm great at ambush!" He twitches quickly, looking to jump up into a tree, rush somewhere else, but... he's been a soldier before. He knows the lash of a leader's words for running ahead of the squad. Not following orders. His tail twitches back and forth eagerly.
Kayoko Kirenai	Dragon, is the first, practically unavoidable word to come to Kayoko's mind, upon seeing the charred wreckage of Castle Araphen. How could it not be, when marching with knights, in a fairytale-esque countryside shadowed by war with an evil empire, overlooking a castle flattened by some force ten times the size of a Temptation, with fire breath-- fire, at least-- besides.     If she said it out loud, though, she knows immediately that everyone would chastise her and remind her that there *aren't* any dragons; not anymore at least. But there *should* be. Kayoko can envision so many ways they could resurface; a thousand year old egg just recently cared for and hatched, a vengeful ancient dragon emerging from its hiding place after so long, a necromancer-- one less annoying than Trudy-- conducting some ritual with the bones and old battle marks....     But she'll get scolded for that, so she won't say it. Instead, Chevalier Cobalt is all business, all heroics. "This is horrible... how could they have managed this? Do you know of any weapon that they have that could make that kind of... explosion?"     "That's really helpful, Chad." A glance towards Meika communicates silently what their joint plan will be, enabling Kayoko to speak on both of their behalfs. Well, she assumes it silently communicates what she has in mind-- either way, she's the one in armor, Meika will do what she's expected to. "You having that key means we won't need to make a mess of any kind, so we won't need to risk fighting before the prisoners are out."     "And that's something Vermillion and I can guarantee. I can turn all of us, prisoners too, completely invisible. Chevalier Vermillion can keep us quiet, and... manage the downside, so be ready for it, okay?"     What she means by the ambiguous 'downside' becomes clear when the air starts shimmering around the entire infiltration team as if distorted by heat. The image of the castle and surrounding woods bulges and blueshifts, compressed into an inverted lens of backwards and mirrored images contained in a crystal ball-like spherical distortion in front of each of their eyes, then finally winks out, leaving them all blind. From an outside perspective, their images waver as light twists unnaturally to reflect along paths that don't contain the Elites, before adjusting into place soundlessly with all of them gone.     Ru Li can still use any of his other senses radially, but anyone dependent on sight is fully blind, without Meika's guidance.
Desire Stars	Ace Ukiyo had traveled with Roy's army, having set up camp with them beforehand. Neon Kurama, however, had not. The both of them wear navy-black activewear with 'DGP' branding, Neon having arrived in hers and Ace having changed into his the morning of the departure.     Neon seems different than she had, upon her last outing here--her trek along the way had been made with renewed optimism, and though her smile flees at the sight of the ruined castle and the grisly leavings of an overwhelming defeat, she herself doesn't, one fist clenched at her side even as she lifts a handkerchief to cover her nose, taking a cue from Lucius. What could have?     Ace frowns, thinking of her. 'I care not whether now or later, Your Highness.' That was what the woman named Iðunn had said, on the matter of destroying everyone at Zephiel's table. *Could this have been her work? Or was it another 'Wyvern General?'* But when we're in, let me lead. I know where they'd be keeping prisoners.     Neon isn't in a position to turn down help from someone who knows what they're doing--not the least because it's help from people like that which has restored her confidence. She nods, then shares a glance with Ace. The both of them procure their Drivers, each device automatically fastening itself to its respective Rider's waist. At the center of each, there's a small authenticator token--white with a red fox's face for Ace's, black with a golden cat's face for Neon's.                                   Set! MAGNUM                                                                 Set! ARMED PROPELLER                                   "Propeller, huh..." Geats lifts a white-bracered arm to ponder, while the white scoped handcannon hangs loosely in his other.     "...what? Is there something wrong with it?" Na-Go pokes one of the weapon's unwieldy blades--the both of them together are as tall as she is. Rather than a bespoke cuirass like Ace's, her matte black armor simply sports a grey brace, with a small breastplate bearing a cameo of her weapon in white.     "No," says Geats. "Just that you might have trouble using it in tight quarters."     "Huh... maybe I should help Mr. Dieck, then."     "Sure," says Geats. "I'll go with Chad."      That decided, Na-Go hunkers down with Dieck, and Geats brings up the rear of the party accompanying Chad. Any of the patrols that might challenge them along the way will have to deal with Geats' marksmanship--he's transformed the Magnum Shooter into its rifle configuration, and seems quite adept at quickly aiming down the scope to find shots. If it's at all relevant, he prioritizes archers first, then cavalry.
Flamel Parsons	Flamel Parsons is sensitive to some needs though. Above all else, he protects mental health. Before he sets off with Chad, he hands off a cluster of Confusion grenades. These small green psychic constructs, shaped like question marks, will help with one key issue. "Pull the curly pin and toss them in each stable after Dysnomia is done spooking them. That should get them so confused they don't know which way is up, and it'll be impossible to even ride them as fleeing steeds! But they'll be fine by tomorrow morning."     This is spoken aloud to make it clear to everyone present that no non-combatant animals are going to be harmed in the operation. Humanity's relationship with domesticated animals is intense enough that he takes preventive measures for certain kinds of mental harm just by instinct and second-nature.     If you shook his jacket, you'd find dog treats for guard dogs. If you blow into the heel of his left shoe you'll find it doubles as a silent whistle that's designed to drive woodland creatures away from probable explosions. His belt can be rigged into a highly advanced spy-tech version of the V0.23 "Panini Press" EZ-Nabber for safe containment of small pets. It just comes with the job.
Lilian Rook	"Ah. Gone."     Lilian has seen countless ruined buildings in her life so far. Numberous mass graves. The sites of dozens of horrible disasters. None of them had been anywhere near fresh enough for her to still see molten metal and smell carbonized flesh. She hadn't expected the recency of it to matter. The knowing that this was a fortress perhaps mere hours ago; that these people might have been alive while she was coming down from the Warpgate, hits her in a way she hadn't expected.     Thus the meaning of gone sinks in with a sense of queasy enlightenment. "So this sort of thing happens here, too." Lilian says to an empty rise, numbed to the point of matter-of-fact. "No. No, if I were him, I'd do at least this much. He must have this sort of power if he's managed to annex two nations and have troops to spare." she says, pressing her hands to her temples; closing her eyes and forcing channels of thought to connect instead of isolate. "The more important question for later is 'how'. For now . . ."     'So much for armor being useful'     "I'd like to see you dodge that then, you graceless little prick."     Lilian exhales all at once. She hadn't meant to say it, but doing so immediately makes her feel as if she can breathe again.     "Always a fucking one liner. Have some decency for once. These are their countrymen."     Turning on her heel away from her lookout, Lilian's cloak whirls about her, and settles only after she drops down. Beneath it is far more armour than there appeared to be in the murky firelight, but she lands with unsettling softness; the metal has tolerances too tight to rattle against itself.     "Hector, is it?" she says, raising her voice. "I believe I can trust at least a veteran knight to handle the stables with a few subordinates. Likewise, the patrols may be green as well; and if they somehow overpower you and escape, it'll be child's play to hunt them down in the woods. If someone you know might be taken captive, Lord Roy, then I'll see to it myself. That's something that can't be allowed to go wrong."     She looks at Chad with a trace of worry, but proportionately more doubt. His age only summons a very faint need to keep him away; his demand to lead the way strikes her as somewhat dubious; it's up to him whether he prefers it that way or not. "As long as you have no objections to inviting myself to the vanguard." she says.
Dysnomia	Dysnomia didn't care much for the affairs of getting to know the shape of all the minds of people who would likely die. And she wasn't a soldier anymore. She could afford to stay behind, to wait. She could afford to, couldn't she?     ...No.     She couldn't.     She swept in, late, faded onto the scene like a misty mirage, and her first taste of everything was their hurt, their panic, their horror. This time, the taste of it was all too crisp, all too clear. "What weapons made these," her words came as more of a murmur, eyes darting over the ruin. Some kind of seige weaponry? No...Wouldn't the others of this world be less shocked by it, then?     "The more important question for later is 'how'. For now . . ."     Dysnomia shakes it off with an incoherent mutter...Or tries. There's momentum to ride off, and she finds herself moving with Madeleine, Lance and the others. "Right." She glided over the terrain, allowing Madeleine to take the lead in the charge to the stables.     As they went, she mustered her will...Or tried. The fear, the dread, the anticipation the smell of fiery devastation all around her, she sharpened them all into knives at the back of her mind. Hers wasn't like Flamel's arts, honed, refined into a scapel for precise blows to the psyche. No, hers were the desperate stabs of something cornered, bloody and uncaring of consequences.
Dark Horses	A red motorcycle rolls down towards the group, carrying ontop of it a man clad in purple and black armor. Thankfully, the engine is idle, and the rider simply lets gravity carry it down until he hits the breaks with his own feet. He doesn't say anything as he joins up, just grunting as he dismounts and twists a handle attached to the side of his belt, causing his transportation to dissipate in a dull flash of white.      Though silent, the way he gazes over the carnage speaks a lot for what's on his mind, a clawed fist bunching up as thoughts overwhelm him for a moment. Just as quickly as the anger builds up in him, it disappears, as with an agitated click of his tongue, his tensed body relaxes.      He clenches his normal fist, not in rage, but to simply crack his knuckles this time, as he turns around to properly acknowledge the group, at least somewhat.      "Call me Buffa. I'm here to help. Just don't get in my way."      There's an annoyed tone in Kamen Rider Buffa's voice as he says to Dieck, which seems to get even worse as he looks over Geats, though whatever problem he has with him, he doesn't say, instead just throwing his sword over his shoulder as he waits to get moving.
Meika Kirenai	The bright night sky above, the breeze through the woodlands, the previous half-felt sense of how magical it is to be in a world like this at all, fade out to a dull blur. Now it's just more duty, and they're all starting off achingly in the red. Meika doesn't pull the crumpled page she's got stuck in her letterman's jacket out, not even for this. It's not an emergency yet. And it'd be selfish. I'm the only one that's really safer with me in-armor. I'll make it work. Myriad justifications run through her mind, none leave her any less bitter with each time the bright glare of her sister's presence crosses her mind en route.     They wouldn't be scared, too, if this was from a Temptation- There's little else in Meika's repetoire of expectations and experience to process a building that's been cored out like an apple. There's little else to process bodies turned to dust on the wind. The longer that either linger on mind, though the sicker she feels. '... Alright. If you're sure you can handle yourself,'     "He can. We'll make sure of that." A pause, and the magical girl shifts her stance. A thin tree root beneath one of her boots snaps in half, with a cracking sound that faintly smears off into a dull, ringing hum. She doesn't seem to notice. "We'll- There's no way I won't be sticking with him. And-"     Hesitant, she looks over to Cobalt. Who am I kidding? What's an assurance from me even worth..? "I'm sure Cobalt won't let him get hurt, either." 'And that's something Vermillion and I can guarantee. I can turn all of us, prisoners too, completely invisible. '     It's not new, working together with Cobalt to slip past the gaze and attention of onlookers best avoided. They both have practice. Vermillion nods a while before words she's mouthing make any sound- "Yeah. Downside. Stick- stick near me. I won't get lost. And-" She sounds less certain about the next part, "Keep contact."     Both of her hands emerge from the pockets of her jacket, and extend out even when the world around starts to shimmer and distort. Meika's eyes close tight. She hates watching the shift, and how disorienting it is- it's easier to rely on feeling out the real, tangible shapes around her, the echoes of every footstep and stray breath. That's never made her stomach turn.     {"I'll pay attention to what's around for you all. We'll be quiet, and I'll distract whoever needs distracting. Trust me. And close your eyes, if you haven't yet."} Something about Meika's voice is different, whispered out even to all of the infiltration team, without some sense of background noise nigh-imperceptibly present in how she usually talks. Nobody Kayoko isn't already shielding over with her invisibility can hear a sound from Meika- no footsteps, no heartbeat, absolutely nothing. Just the tug of her cold shaking fingers on whoever's bothered to chain together hands to let her guide.
Marigold	What could do this? Roy shakes his head, then looks up at Guinivere. "No weapon with which I am familiar," she confesses uncomfortably. "Certainly not wyverns; they are little stronger than horses. Perhaps Brunnya devised a new spell? But fire isn't characteristic of her... even given my station, it's nothing I'd heard of."      Ru Li's expanded senses find less than fifty living people, half of them concentrated in the ground floor of Castle Araphen's relatively intact keep, and some in the basement below it. A couple of active patrols are obscured behind the castle, and some archers are stationed in the guard towers and atop the battlements, otherwise hidden from view.      Roy, Chad, Lucius, and Lugh form the rescue party, with everyone's favorite seneschal sneakily including himself at the tail end. When they fade from view, some of the others briefly panic: "Lord Roy! Are you still there??" "Don't worry for me, Wolt. I'm fine," he says, but still finds someone to hold onto. The others adjust uneasily.      "Well," says Dieck, slapping his leg and straightening up. "No point givin' 'em more daylight to work with. I'm not paid hourly." His confident smile says 'you ready?'      Not five seconds after Dieck steps out from the trees, a cry goes up from one of the patrols. It's carried from one to the next; weapons are drawn and postures steeled across Castle Araphen in a slow ripple of collective alarm. Roy's army does their best to stay abreast of it as they wade through the ash-stained meadow towards the castle.      A trio of small spearman-and-bowman patrols muster hasty resistance outside the castle. That makes a nice primer on how the Pheraen army works. Dieck's quartet are their own machine; he invites blows with his menacing greatsword harrying and unarmored body, then his axe-toting 'boys' flank and strike down whoever takes the invitation. Shanna functions as an exaggeration of cavalry, skittish of massed infantry but eager to swoop down on stragglers like a falcon with her winged steed and that long slim lance.      Roy and his retainers would probably form a different machine together, were they not separated by invisibility. Marcus with Wolt riding behind, Lance, and Alen slip around one of the patrols under Madeleine's guidance, the former swerving to protect the latter from a stray arrow with his shield. Though not shy about taking opportunistic spear-jabs, their goal's the gap in the outer wall into the courtyard where the rubble's clearest.      They dismount and try to press into the small wooden stables on foot, already facing resistance from spearmen or dismounted riders inside. But pretty soon the archers on the walls are firing at them from behind, on top of Dieck's group- and, most threateningly, poor aim and volume of fire ensure a few are 'aimed' at the cloaked group while they pass through the open courtyard. For most, the only warning they have of incoming arrows is a whistle in the air. Chad manages to flinch away from one on instinct anyway.
Marigold	Flamel's psychic projections superimpose on the castle a vision of its past, handily visible even to those in Kayoko's cloaking darkness: a giant of a man, clad in blue-gold armor and carrying an axe, stands at the inner gate. Narcian and a red-cloaked mage do battle with him on the steps. He's a match for the first, but not the second; she drives him to his knees with lightning from thirty feet away as he clashes weapons with Narcian, and then with a flicking gesture impales him with ice-spikes formed from whirling freezing wind.      "Oh, Lord Hector," Merlinus murmurs tensely in the murkily-psychic-vision-illustrated darkness, still huddled down against unseen arrows. "They had to send two..." But that isn't where Roy's looking. He's looking behind, at--      --a pack of vast dark shapes. Easily half a dozen, taller than an elephant and twice as long. Terror makes them indistinct, but here and there features resolve: teeth like daggers and claws like swords, gouts of flame that hem Lycia's soldiers in and pin them to the walls. There's only one name for what they are. "Bern... what have you done?"      "Stay focused," Chad tries to whisper, but his voice quails. "Just a little further to the keep." His Flamel-projected memories help foggily illuminate the path ahead through a breach in the wall, though he'll need Meika's help to fill the details and what's changed.
Ru Li Cheng	Ru Li doesn't especially *like* being blind, but it's not a substantial problem for him. He's quiet, remarkably quiet, walking along slightly behind and occasionally touching Chad's shoulder to warn him. At one point he snatches an incoming arrow out of the air on pure reflex, tasting the feather and the flint as it enters his zone of awareness. He hands the arrow off to someone else so he doesn't drop it and make a noise like a fool, then resumes his directions. His voice is very quiet whenever he has to warn them - pointed, simple statements without any flowery inflection, all business, all straightforward. When Chad's voice quails, Ru Li's hand pats him gently on the back (so as not to mix up the system he's already set up of warning Chad where enemies are).      "You are alright. You will be safe," he whispers, "The visions are visions of the past. There is no one in our way, not at the moment. Nothing will hurt you with us around. These are memories of the stone and nothing more." Disturbing, unpleasant memories of the stone's deep and horrid experiences, but memories nonetheless, memories that Ru Li himself isn't focusing on because if he did, it could mix him up badly and lead them straight into an ambush.
Aidan Proudpick	"Always a fucking one liner. Have some decency for once. These are their countrymen." Aidan grimaces. Breeze, he hates it when she's right. But he does file it away. He stands there for a solid fifteen seconds before he lets out a rare, "You're right," to Lilian. He looks around at his group. The Kamen Rider, a big smile on Aidan's face. Always get to work with a Kamen Rider. TWO Kamen Riders? Aidan's back straightens immediately. Kamen Rider Buffa says, "You are?" Okay, okay, Dieck and Rider Neon. "No point givin' 'em more daylight to work with. I'm not paid hourly." His confident smile says 'you ready?' Steel yourself, Aidan. Steel yourself. This is a fight. He pulls his GUN off his back, immediately seeing Shanna dive towards one of the smaller squads. "I'll break them up!" New people. Knights. Warriors. An ear to ear grin spreads onto his face as he pulls his buckler off his arm. He takes a step forward, twisting his body around, HURLING the buckler like a discus at one of the larger squads of infantry. A whisper of white slips out of his mouth and the shield grows, turning into a mighty lion's head shield nearly as big as Aidan is. It ROARS as it picks up speed, having little care for anything that gets in its way. It simply keeps accelerating to and possibly THROUGH one of the infantry squads.
Flamel Parsons	Flamel is staying invisible, but every so often, his allies can see where he is in the cloaking darkness, based on the soft ping of his clairvoyance going off and illuminating the combination of memories and psychometry. "Sure thing. Staying focused." He says. "I don't think those creatures stayed here. But we need to find out what those are. What... *are* they? Nnnh. The terror's scrambled the psychic residue too much. Bern... they're using some pretty abhorrent tactics, aren't they?"     Even the sound of his footsteps ceases. He's psychically levitating now. At the keep, they won't be able to use distance quite so much, which means he has to prepare his stealth measures. Pre-set psychic payloads are created, since Flamel can't afford deep-level invasion, and they're built to disable a person's psychological ability to shout for help. He'd rather just try to disable the opposition and aggression in everyone the group meets, but that'd take a truly untenable amount of effort and he knows it wouldn't work out, so the best approach is to simply let the others do the type of operating they're used to in such a way that maintains a little stealth.     As soon as they start reaching groups of soldiers that can't be bypassed through clever open-field maneuvering, he's going to start putting that mental payload to use. He assumes that'll be the interior -- such as it is -- of Castle Araphen. Even the shattered remains of hallways define where a stealth operator and his allies can move.
Trudy Grimm	Patrols are engaged. The fight begins. Trudy takes her time emerging from the trees, compared to the rest, weaving runes together as she paces slowly in lazy pursuit. Grimnir the Sage seems to have stayed in the trees, content to leave her to her business. Those who know where they came from can at least still spot his hunched figure with the walking stick lurking in the forest's shadows.     "Oh my," the witch hums, "So many of you are so terribly burned. I'm afraid I can only do so much with what I have." Stopping, she hums, "Oh, but you wouldn't mind if I used some of the pieces to patch up your comrades, no? Ahh, that way more of you get to participate..."     A thin green mist wafts up out of the ground, from between cobblestones, through brickwork pathways. It swirls around the feet of fighting men and women and beasts harmlessly. After a moment, it seeps into the discarded, charred bones of the fallen. Almost simultaneously, the seared skeletons shudder. One by one, they lurch back to their feet, the interiors of their skulls dark as pitch, with burning green embers in their empty sockets.     Clad in melted armor and collecting discarded, scorched weapons, the vengeful dead of Lycia join in the battle against the Bernite garrison left in Castle Araphen with swords and bows and spears in hand.     Trudy follows shortly at a languid pace, the Grimoire closed at her hip, the rune of Death glowing above gently cupped hands.
Odette Raskins	"He'll be okay! W-we'll all be okay." Odette tries to reassure Wolt when she hears the tone in his voice at Roy's visual disappearance, although she doesn't sound that much calmer herself knowing that this infiltration could very well go sideways if she's not careful about holding onto... Who's she holding onto? She's holding onto a sleeve, at least, but she can't quite tell who thanks to the side-effect of Cobalt's invisibility. "We're okay. J-just gotta stay calm and... A-anyone behind me?" The EMT murmurs as she wriggles briefly, keeping one hand held behind her to make sure there's still an extra handhold for anyone that needs to be led along. She's grateful for those gloves of hers keeping the clamminess to a minimum (for anyone that's touching her hands, anyway), but there's still a cold sweat from sneaking along with the group that makes her eyes itch a bit. It almost makes Flamel's psychic projections more vivid by virtue of having nothing else she can see at the moment. Odette sucks in through her teeth lightly when she sees the giant impaled in ice, then squeezes the hand beneath the sleeve in front of her gently to try and reassure whoever it is she's holding onto. "There's.. There's still time. Once we find him, I'll get some new blood in, and... We can get him treated." She murmurs to try and reassure Merlinus, not noticing the giant shapes Roy's looking at until the flames start bursting out. There's another anxious gasp, and whomever Odette's holding onto can feel her trembling just from the sight alone. "Hh... L. Little further. R-right. And then once we're in there, we can... W-we'll see for sure what's still around here. A-and then we can escape if any of those things are still around."
Shinmyoumaru Sukuna	Shinmyoumaru lets out a surprised noise when space appears to twist around her, though it's only her vision. Someone nearby might be poked by her needle as she feels around with it, though she's not jabbing so it's not likely to draw blood. Getting accidentally swatted with the side is more likely. She's just trying to find something, anything with it and it's the longest thing she has at hand. But the explanation comes, and: "Oh," from the darkness. A beat. "Sorry. You didn't have to do that though! I'm sneaky enough!" She doesn't really do anything about it, though, except she actually will take Meika's hand if she can find it. Shinmyoumaru at least does not grip uncomfortably tightly, though whoever's hand she has grabbed is likely to get the impression she's more allowing her floating bowl to be towed along than actually participating in the 'movement' thing. Fortunately, it is functionally weightless for this purpose, and has only slight resistance, like pulling a cork on a string across a bathtub. Psychic projections help. Shinmyoumaru has at least a vague idea of where to go, though she can't *really* see anything. At this range she can at least feel the mages in the group, especially the ones doing something - like Meika and Kayoko - and that gives her a few stable points of reference. "Who's that?" she hisses, about the mage with Narcian and the man she doesn't know fighting them - that one must be Hector, she figures out from Merlinus. She winces at the lightning and the ice... and stares intently at the creatures behind them. Shinmyoumaru, drifting along, is absolutely silent (except when she speaks). She's been in castles before - she lived in a castle for all her life! - but the ones she knows are Japanese-styled; the feel of this place is completely different, and she can't see to start meddling. She (still silently) digs around in her bowl, pulling out one of her sets of sewing needles... a very small set. With her other hand she taps the bundle with her mallet. "Wake up," Shinmyoumaru hisses under her breath. Then, barely audibly: "I know I've asked a lot of you lately, but would you mind helping me again? It's easy this time, you just have to watch." There's a bit of murmured agreement from... a group of someones. As they prepare to enter the keep, Shinmyoumaru drops a needle, which rolls slightly to one side, against the wall. She does this again a little bit later, and again some distance after that, and again, until she's down to just one. To the needles she's kept, she says, "Tell me if your friends see something!" She figures tiny little needles - and they *are* tiny, they're sized for someone who's shorter than even Shinmyoumaru, who is four feet - are really, really unlikely to be noticed in debris, dirt, or carpets, especially because they fall and land in ways that are hard to spot, deliberately. She feels better with an extra set of scouts out. That done, Shinmyoumaru lowers her mallet again. She keeps an eye out... well, not really, because she can't. But she remains alert for magic, which *doesn't* require her eyes to feel at least the basics.
Blemishine	Marcus with Wolt riding behind, Lance, and Alen slip around one of the patrols under Madeleine's guidance--     --and Blemishine is right along with them, appreciative for Madeleine's aid in keeping an eye out ahead and charting their course. While her own eyes are sharp, she's as vulnerable to the low lighting of early morning as everyone else! And making her own lumination to fix that would spoil the surprise too soon. She can keep up even with the mounted knights easily though, all the way until...     "Archers...!" Unsurprising, with how effective Bern's formations made use of them before. With Marcus and his understudies already having their hands full with attempting to press inward past resistance, the blonde knight opts to play to her strengths, and that's protection. Arrows fly from the rear, but she's square in the middle of leaping in the way to stop a considerable portion of the volley.     Not just with shield, but with sword - light gleams along the edge, trailing behind its path as it carves a wide arc to accurately slice several more while they're in flight. She doesn't need to get every single one of them with their relatively off aim, just the ones that she's snap-intuited would be at risk of hitting Marcus, Alen, and Lance.     "You can focus on pushing on ahead! I'll watch the back!" Of course, actually making some offensive effort back at the archers will probably be best left to someone else - but as long as Blemishine is on guard, no one in the stable-faring group should need to worry about slowing down their advance because of the support fire.
Angela	Ceri would probably be a little bashful at saying 'dragons!' too even if she too had storybook dreams as a child. She certainly never expected to actually travel to a medieval world like this and see a land devastated in quite this way. In a story she'd be oohing and gasping at the drama but that blood looks as real as anything else, the smell of burnt flesh is so very familiar. Tennant meanwhile is all too happy to assist Dieck as sniper (which means, as a result, Hokma is with his team). Rather than dare to shoot at those within close quarters with Dieck, Tennant stays back and picks off anyone who tries to stay back--focusing on archers, stragglers, and those trying to escape. Tennant isn't cruel, but they don't seem to have any hesitation when it comes to opening fire on the enemy, humming under their breath as they work their bloody business. "..By the Wings..." Ceri murmurs. "It really is dragons." She gives Chad a nod and otherwise follows along. She isn't especially stealthy wit her current situation but the two magical girls nearby providing cover, she doesn't have to worry about it. It's one less thing to worry about, as she's rediscovering she has something to live for. "Shajo brought tale back of a dragon that was also a librarian and I had assumed he was making it up."
Madeleine Cadrasteia	Madeleine twists the dot off one of the question-mark-shaped confusion grenades and tosses the curved part into the stable, hoping whatever it does is something she can follow up on. After the blast clears she rushes in. Quarters are too close for her spear, so she draws her ritual dagger in a reverse grip. She's more used to fighting beasts with it than men, but her reflexes and strength allow her to bat aside sword-strokes using her spiked bracers instead of risking the knife's integrity. She has a little more trouble with a spear-wielding knight who mostly kept his wits despite the grenade, but eventually she gets ahold of the spear's shaft and snaps off the head with a clench of her fist.     The knights accompanying her, covered from archers by Blemishine, are keeping the other soldiers busy enough to give her some breathing room. It'll last just a moment, but it's long enough for her objective: after spilling the enemy knight's guts with her knife, she reaches into his abdomen to find the liver - a gesture she's performed at least a hundred times on humans, and countless times on other creatures - and takes it in her hand. She doesn't even need to look at it to begin feeling its contours, absorbing all she can of the dying man's last days. The method may be grisly, but any information about Bern's tactics is worthwhile. After all, the huntress is not yet privy to Flamel's psychometric impression, and even if she did already know how the castle met its doom, there could be more to glean from the memories of a ranking officer.
Dysnomia	Though she had no steed of her own, Mia had no trouble keeping pace with Lance and Alen. Refraining from spreading her wings, she still her her telekinetic array at her disposal to keep her in the air. With a whip of plasma crackling, in her hands, the mist seemed to swirl and move at her beckoning, lifting a piece of fallen masonry to open a way to the stables. "Here. Go." She held the way open, just long enough.     There was so much noise, and panic. But the warriors moved with their own certainty. When one of them turned, Mia's gaze turned to cover their blind spots. When they came on the stables and the archers loosed, Dysnomia didn't think.     She landed on the ground with a heavy impact, shielding the two warriors with her own body. With a grunt, she made her body solid enough to bring the arrows to a dead stop, leaking blood dripping to the ground at her feet in a small puddle.     Whatever happened, Mia would get better. They might not.     It was that that drove what came next.     She stepped forward. Pulling the arrow loose from her body, she let it clatter to the ground in front of her. "Is that all?" She asked, snapping at the air with a whipcrack like lightning. Her gaze passed over the archers, like the shadow of something great and terrible. This was the threat. Put her down, before its too late. Her thoughts hissed into the team's heads. "Press your advantage. Now"
Desire Stars	No point givin' 'em more daylight to work with. I'm not paid hourly. I'll break them up!     "...right!" Na-Go's helmet bobs once in affirmation. She seems to share Shanna's tactics, right down to flying--a squeeze of the unusual grip on her Propeller sets it to spinning rapidly enough that she's lifted off of the ground. Traveling in short bursts, she works with the pegasus rider to briefly lift off, land, and decisively strike with the Propeller, using it not unlike a quarterstaff. The blades are sharp enough that any comparisons to a staff end fairly quickly--especially when she weaponizes its rapid spinning. Bern... what have you done? I don't think those creatures stayed here. But we need to find out what those are. What... *are* they?     "So," whispers Geats. "If they aren't 'wyverns...' What else could they be?" Stay focused. Just a little further to the keep.     "We've got your back," Geats whispers back. So far, it hasn't been necessary--barring a close call from some arrows which the experienced Rider deflected rather than shot, the visual occlusion effect has kept attention off of everyone in this party. Where it's necessary to do so, Geats leaps into the air, propping himself up and sticking to the wall with application of his legs and the butt of his rifle, so as not to bump into any wandering guards along the way. "That key," whispers the Rider to Chad.      "It'll open cell doors, too?"
Lilian Rook	'Perhaps Brunnya devised a new spell? But fire isn't characteristic of her... even given my station, it's nothing I'd heard of.'     "You seem to regard her as a terribly prominent threat." Lilian says to Guinivere. It's not clear how she meant it at first, but before departing, she adds, "I'll keep that in mind."     'You're right'     "At least Petra taught you that much." Lilian moves on without further comment.     She doesn't particularly think much of being invisible. Or rather, she thinks eerily nothing of it at all. Even Kayoko-- or especially Kayoko, actually, can see the way she holds her head high, steps softly but confidently, and tenses not at all. There's no sign of confusion or anxiety; no subtle signs of crouching posture or stiff and light steps bleeding into her bearing. She acts as if it's shockingly unremarkable. Her attention appears to be drawn to how odd it is to watch the soldiers fighting along the way.     An arrow whistles the party's way, from the opposite side of Ru Li, and she steps into it with a flutter of her cloak. Her hand grips the hilt over her back, draws three inches of black blade, and catches the arrowhead on the edge as it hums past the turn of her head, biting into the steel tip and snapping the shaft in the middle. She returns her weapon with a quiet click as the arrow tumbles to the ground. "One arrow is sometimes all that's necessary." she says to Ru Li, her meaning inscrutable to most.     But the image of Hector makes her tighten her lips and divert her gaze. Elites are quick to abandon a battle they can't win; or drag their comrades away from it. That's the nature of being 'Multiversal denizens'. Seldom are they forced to stand alone in defense of their home against many; and Lilian has seen two of those from the Otherworld die in that defense-- and functionally killed eight in their position. The reminder that it can actually happen; that these things aren't always tilted ten to one in the hero's favour; is bitter in the back of her throat, no matter how much she constantly urges others to remember as well.     "He'll be remembered, if nothing else. And it takes an exceptional man to do so, when a hopeless battle is committed to history." she says. "Better that we see what those two are capable of now rather than later. His sacrifice better prepares us." she continues. A soft sigh firms up into terse, resolute words. "I've committed their fighting styles to memory. I'll consider how to overcome them later."     But the dragons sit ill at ease with her. It's simple enough to express as much. "That can't be correct, at least. Even if there are survivors of that age, no one could gather up a squad of them and have them march behind men. Unless this world has magic that brings back the dead as living thralls, I estimate that we're looking at something new." She sounds firm, but Roy has already heard what her absolute conviction sounds like. She's entertaining doubts. Even small ones.     'If they aren't 'wyverns...' What else could they be?'     "Drakes?" is her best attempt at levity.
Dark Horses	It'd be a lot easier for Buffa if he could just fight this army by himself. Not in the physical sense, but mentally. Having to potentially care about the safety of several other people and not just his own makes charging forward recklessly a lot harder to do. Not that he isn't going to do it, he actually doesn't care in that regard, it's just more so the fact it something he should be caring about.      Advancing forward ahead of the group, Kamen Rider Buffa engages a couple of infantrymen, his sword still resting on his shoulder. He delivers a swift kick to one, shoving them into the rest of the group as he then slams his serrated blade into the ground, in front of him, pushing the weight of his other foot on the black grip of the blade which causes it to pump down the sword, and then click back up once he lets his foot off.      POISON CHARGE      Lifting the now glowing sword up, he swings it into the still staggered infantry, the chainsaw blade on the weapon now spinning violently fast as it cuts through several of them.      TACTICAL BREAK
Kayoko Kirenai	Kayoko's one-sided ability to obsessively analyze the invisible cluster of Elites, soldiers, and children is used to its fullest extent for the least productive goal possible. She's focused on navigating the field, of course, maintaining her magic, surveilling the battlefield, and so on; but there's a portion of her mental real estate dedicated to an imperceptible unceasing stare at every one of the infiltrator's faces. It's important to know-- whether they look scared, uncomfortable, doubtful of her abilities, reassured by her presence, grateful, judgemental-- and so on.     Chevalier Cobalt so rarely has opportunities to flex her magic shamelessly for the approval and benefit of others. Whatever reaction they provide her, she drinks it up like gospel.     Watching another archetypal armored hero be skewered in Flamel's projections makes Kayoko's stomach clench painfully. Hector is easily identified by Merlinus's mumbling, and then the mage must be Brunnya, and then the shadows....     Kayoko can't help it, audible only to the people cloaked by her magic because of the aid of Meika's magic: she hisses, victoriously, "I *knew* it!"     Most of Cobalt's attention has to go to keeping her cloaking stable, rather than assisting with the infiltration or defense efforts personally. As confidently as she declared she could do it, she's rarely ever needed to maintain such precise control over illusions superimposed over so many people-- if it were just herself she was hiding, she'd be helping out with the battle, or helping protect the Elites fighting, or hindering the enemies from rallying together. As is, though, it takes everything she has to keep an eye out and keep eyes *off* of the group as they enter into the ruined stone hallways. "A-and then we can escape if any of those things are still around."     "... Do you think we'll have to? Fight a..." Kayoko's voice drops, scared, and hesitant to even say it out loud as if it'll manifest the possibility or worse, be discarded as ridiculous. "... a dragon?"
Lilian Rook	"No." says Lilian, as if the question were equivalent to a fantasy battle 'who would win'. "But If we did, I'd win."
Kayoko Kirenai	"But If we did, I'd win."     Technically, no one can see the expression on Kayoko's face. Even if they weren't blinded by her magic, even if she wasn't personally invisible, *below* all that, she'd also be obscuring her expression anyways. It still seems really easy to imagine her eyes practically sparkling at Lilian.     "Yeah... er, um, of course, Dame Commander. We won't need to worry. And I'll be keeping an eye out for them, just in case."
Meika Kirenai	It's far too heavy to feel like floating, in a hushed and lightless wash, save for Flamel's projected mapping. Substance feels thicker and more noticable with less of everything else, none of the sense of being watched, the sense of disturbing anyone or anything else. In the midst of it all, Meika doesn't even notice her shoulders aren't as hunched, her sightless gaze as low-pointed, as she'll often trend to.     What is clear and obvious, though, to Shinmyoumaru specifically- Meika is absolutely bristling with magic- the way something that is magic would, not something that is using it. Meika isn't transformed, like she's seen her be once before, but if there's any difference between what Shinmyoumaru can sense in her and Chevalier Cobalt, it doesn't seem to lie in whether the magical girl is in armor or not.      Beyond the first moments before the veiling, Meika can only somewhat tell who of the entourage winds up actually in contact with her; stone, armor, and bones, regardless whether part of someone living or scattered throughout the wrecked halways, read easier to bouncing sound than soft tissues like faces. There's no color, there's no texture. It'd be easy if I just-     Meika's hands tense. She can't ball them up, working as a guide, and she can't distract herself from whispering out precautions on footing or presence of enemies. The hushed quiet, the slight sensory deprivation, all make it harder and harder for her mind to not stray into overhearing the thoughts of the infiltration team, absolutely forbidden with Flamel around, who's sure to catch her this time, and-     -And so it's almost a blessing when- -Whistling, something's moving- Shit!- -a stray arrow from the distant volleys catches her periphary senses, and then-- It should have caught her, Meika had the second to brace but not dodge, but there's the arrow, clattering in pieces to the floor a distance away. The flinch in her demeanor is, unfortunately, obvious.     {"... Oh.Thanks, Chevalier Rook. That would've..."} No visible nod or expression, thankfully. A flash of thoughts cascade behind her eyes, worry and guilt for there having been any effort expended to protect her, instead of letting it being something she just bears, or even some familiar grounding source of sensation in the swimming-like haze of stealth. Her gait stumbles, slightly, and she bites at the inside of her lips.
Meika Kirenai	The longer it goes on, the more Meika doesn't like the imposed echo of the castle's layout. It's like looking at one of her sister's crafted illusions, senses conflicting and yet giving no indication of falsehood save for her knowing which she trusts. The only difference is it stays whether or not her eyes are closed. I can see it just fine. I can do this. I don't need help, it's my job, I can do it myself- She's more sour than she'd expected she would be, relegated just to handling Cobalt's stunt's drawback. The dragons, too, are utterly horrible. Distilled down to just what's nightmarish about them, with everything else easy to fill in the blanks about. Her hands tremble. She's desperately glad the enemy that did this is something monster-like. Knights are supposed to slay monsters- dragons, especially. '... Do you think we'll have to? Fight a...'     {"We'll have to, if they're around anywhere, right..? If that's even real. Someone has to."} Meika's whisper hides the tremble that's on her lips. 'Just a little further to the keep.'     {"Just a little further,"} Meika parrots, a habit half-functional at reassurance. {"Yeah. We've been going a while, Chad. You're doing good, it's..."} She trails off. He gets the picture, and anything more would feel like an overstepping. Instead, she just nods, for all that's percievable. {"Focused."}
Marigold	When Madeleine hurls Flamel's question-mark grenade into the stables, it's only a few heartbeats before the panicked horses go out, trickle turned into a panicked stampede by Lance and Alen wading in to fling open the stall doors over the resistance of Bern's soldiers.      Blemishine and Mia together easily draw the archers' attention and keep them from harming the Lycian knights' steeds, but that self-sacrifice makes the old kight Marcus hesitate at the stables' entrance. "Surely you don't mean to..." he starts to say, and hesitates, weighing his unfamiliarity with Otherworlders' powers with his assessment of Mia's recklessness. Finally, with a noise of frustration from the back of his throat, he crouches next to her to try and cover her with his shield too while his pupils do their work inside. "Come. I won't have the young dying for me."      Shanna has sharply-defined strengths and weaknesses. She's been keeping a couple hundred feet between herself and those walltop archers at minimum, but as soon as Mia and Blemishine distract them, she gets far far bolder, taking advantage of openings as minute as the startles from Tennant's sniping. She even feels her oats enough to try and give Na-Go a high-five midair between lethal impaling pegasus-swoops. "Hey, great work! What flying school are you from?" She might be the only one in a good mood right now.      At Trudy's urging the soot-blackened bones of the Lycian dead rise up from their snowbanks of white ash, gripping candlewax-melted weapons. The sight alone is enough to terrify the few remaining Bernish soldiers, a good number of them fleeing as soon as they realize what they're seeing; it scares her allies for a minute too, and Dieck even lops the head off of one of the skeletons with a hissed curse before he realizes the rest aren't attacking him.      They clash man-to-man with the Bernish forces; lack of flesh makes them hard to kill with spears, but their fire-blunted weapons are bad at killing too. "More friends of yours?" Dieck asks Trudy rhetorically, and he looks like he can't make up his mind whether to be annoyed or grateful. "Won't say no to a little sabbatical." After an approving look at Aidan- his breaking up another patrol lets Shanna be even more wildly aggressive, to her hooting appreciation- he starts to try and scale the wall to get at the archers personally, scrabbling up to use clawmarks and battle-damage as handholds.
Marigold	"Of course," Roy murmurs to Lilian in the dark. "Dragons despised humans. They wouldn't work with Zephiel. But... what else would one call things like that? Could he have gotten them from the Otherworld?" "That's not unlike what those of our world looked like," Lucius says with a begrudging unease. "Only the Saint's staff could truly raise the dead, Dame Commander. And it is preciously depleted. But..."      "Whatever those beasts were," the seneschal says with a fumbling pat-pat to approximately Meika's shoulder, "I doubt they've kept any here. They've pulled almost all their troops out. If those things can break castles so..." Then they'd be too valuable a resource to just leave lying around carelessly.      Chad audibly swallows, but unusually, he doesn't shrug away Ru Li's hand. "Of course. I'm not scared or anything." He's terrified. "But... thanks. Not far now. The closest thing to a dungeon's the wine cellar. It'll be just around there-" a network of hallways are painted into existence by Flamel's illustration- "-and down the stairs."      In Chad's recollection, the locks on doors are exaggerated. So's everything glittering or edible.      The tight hallways present several close calls to the infiltrating group: individual or grouped spearmen rushing past to join the courtyard fight, and conversely deserters breaking ranks to make for the exits. Several of the Elites can give early warning, but eitehr the whole group will have to squeeze into alcoves or the interlopers will have to be quietly dealt with.      Lucius proves shockingly good at that, when a fleeing soldier approaches from behind. Hearing the footfalls, he blindly reaches out with what-apparently-isn't-a-healing-staff and taps their chest. "Sleep, child," he pronounces gently with a chime and a pulse of magic, and a body can be heard gently crumpling to the carpet.      When Chad said he had a key that'd work on any lock here, he apparently meant 'with a little jimmying and picking too', but he does eventually manage to do that in the dark. Down a staircase he only dimly remembers are the remaining humans Ru Li sensed- but one of them's in the way. A man in full heavy Bernish armor standing at the foot of the stairs with a gleaming shortspear in hand, back turned to the group.      "... vulneraries aren't working? That shouldn't be a mortal wound," he says, oddly anxious. He must be addressing an unseen subordinate. "He's a strong man. Some healer you are. Get him ready for transport. No excuses."      Up ahead past the armored man, Shinmyoumaru's magic senses- and anyone else who can detect the same- find something ominously radiant. Like a big slow-smoldering fire of what can only be this world's 'dark magic'.
Marigold	Madeleine's haruspicy finds memories of--      What are those things? Sometimes they look like people. Sometimes they look like beasts. They have something to do with that woman in purple, but damned if anybody thinks the army deserves to know what. They can't be dragons, obviously- everybody knows dragons are dead and gone- but what else are we supposed to call them? 'Drakes'? That's stupid.      Still, he won't complain. There's only so bitter you can be towards something that fights in your place, no matter how creepy it is. And this is the kind of maneuver that's usually bloody: nothing complicated about it, just pulling a dangerous amount of forces from Ilia and Sacae to crush Lycia where all their leaders are gathered.      'Course that means Brunnya has to rush back before Sacae revolts. But that's not a problem to keep a mere knight up at night. He's not paid enough to worry about maps.
Ru Li Cheng	There's a brief, quiet discussion on the radio about what one arrow versus ten thousand means. As they come upon the Bernish man in armor there's a brief moment where Ru Li considers, and asks aloud, if he should go and cover the man's eyes, strike and take him off-guard, do anything of that nature at all. And then, just as suddenly, he realizes he should not.      The goal is rescue, not violence. Not vengeance. Let others handle violence. He can do something more useful.      One hand hooks around Odette's waist. The other, around Shinmyoumaru's rice bowl.      "Please hold tight," he says quietly.      His foot takes one step. Then another.      Then they are *flying* down the corridor at ludicrous, inhuman speed. Where his foot was is now an impact crater cracking the remains of the walls and the stairs, silenced by Meika's actions. A second step to send them past the Bernish man with all force, leaving the actual fighting to others.      One arrow is all that's necessary.      That also means not expending more when one arrow will do.
Odette Raskins	"Do you think we'll have to? Fight a ... a dragon?" "We'll have to, if they're around anywhere, right..? If that's even real. Someone has to." "I-I really hope not. I mean, y-yeah, if it's... If there was one, and it's that much of a threat, then... W-we might have enough people to take one down eventually? But..." Odette swallows anxiously as she looks over at where Cobalt's and Vermilion's voices are coming from, then around vaguely before remembering that actually seeing anyone in the group is still impossible. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that. Our priority should just be getting everyone out of here safely, and then nobody has to risk dying..." "No." "But If we did, I'd win." That gets a brief sputter out of Odette, then a slightly more relaxed chuckle. "Oh.. I-I really hope so, Miss Rook. I might not be of much help in a fight, but.. Um. I-I'll make sure not even a scar stays after the fight." She chimes in, trying to sound as pumped as she can while still keeping her voice down. "Wish I had that kind of confidence, too..." "I doubt they've kept any here. They've pulled almost all their troops out." Merlinus' affirmation helps to ease Odette's concerns further, but she's still physically on edge the entire time. "And anything big enoguh to be called a dragon couldn't fit into a keep that easily, so... W-we're probably clear." With that concern safely shoved into the back of her head, Odette's actaully able to focus a little better as Chad leads them through the wine cellar. The tightness of the hallways has her holding her breath more than she should, but she remains in the rear alongside Lucius thanks to being rather biased in wanting to sick near the good father. When the soldier comes up from behind, she nearly whips a bottle right into his face, but stops once she hears Lucius speaking just as calmly and dreamily (to her) to send the soldier into a slumber. "How'd you...? Was that magic, Father?" She asks in wide-eyed awe despite the state of her eyes probably not being visible at all, but the tone is clear enough. "Or some kind of martial arts move, or...?" "That shouldn't be a mortal wound," "He's a strong man. Some healer you are. Get him ready for transport. No excuses." "Shouldn't be a ...? Sounds like someone's hurt in there. I need to get in." Tensing up in her stance and tone in a complete 180 of how she had sounded earlier, Odette's free hand goes right to her bag. She's seen plenty of slashing and bashing injuries in this world since coming here, but if she's correctly remembering what she saw from Flamel's memory-playback earlier... "Blood loss, burns, maybe frostbite...?" She murmurs to herself while feeling her way across multiple bottles, stopping briefly to close the bag up when she feels Ru Li grabbing her around the waist. In a regular situation, she'd probably be making some kind of noise at that, but now? She just makes the weird noise when he hurtles down the hallway with her and Shinmyoumaru in tow, creating a strange squeaky Doppler effect in passing while she's freaking out momentarily.
Aidan Proudpick	The grass is always greener on the other side, and Aidan DOES have cool toy jealousy of Buffa and Neon. Until Buffa actually RIPS through some of the soldiers, cutting through them with the CHAINSAW SWORD. Neon's skills with the quarterstaff are enrapturing! And a head turn towards Dieck sees him give an approving look. The shouting from Shanna, arms going up to cheer her back. Now, what Aidan SHOULD do is take out his gun and give covering fire to Dieck to the archers on the roof top, making them have to stop. What Aidan DOES do is summon his shield rushing back to his hand. A quick catch and slam onto his wrist as he charges DIRECTLY into the biggest squad he can see, pumping his arms and legs as fast as he can. Which isn't superhuman. The shield doesn't have time to shrink, Aidan holding the massive disc of steel and magic and technology up across one should. He can't think of a cool name in the moment! Red energy filters down the edges of the shield as he gives a mighty swing, battering away swords. Anyone who hits the wall of red energy simply slides away, like hitting a fast moving river. Aidan lets out a fighter's HOOT. Until spears from the back line come at him. He weaves out of the way of one, ducking his head back, but two more stab through his cloth armor, cutting into the meat of his chest. "Fuck!"
Trudy Grimm	> "More friends of yours?"     "Souls with one final request," the witch responds when questioned, her eyes closing with a slight tilt of her head, "I am merely the one in a position to grant their last wishes."     The skeleton that Dieck beheads pauses. With a crunchy, dusty sound, it reaches down and collects its severed head to set back on its shoulders. There is somewhat of a 'no hard feelings' glower from the emerald light burning in those eyesockets before the creature staggers off to join the fray.     Blunted weapons, bent and mangled swords, and useless armor are a hinderance-- but the difficulty in killing something that is already dead works in their favor as a sort of counterbalance. Animated dead waste little time claiming anything dropped by downed or fleeing Bern troops, ramping up the threat they pose as they get their bony hands on less ruined tools.     To end them, one must break the skeleton in enough places to render it unable to keep moving. Disarticulation sorts itself out eventually and they return to the front. Only the skeletons whose bones have been too broken to hold their humanoid shape remain down, and it's quite hard to do that with bows and spears. The swords and axes have a much easier time.     Trudy hums to herself in thought, "Oh, but we can't have word reaching Bern about what's happening here, can we?"     The rune of Eiwaz is shifted to one hand and she produces Uruz, the Rune of Might. Dipping her face forward, the sickly green light casts her broad smile in a more sinister fashion as she clasps the rune in her fingers like they were claws, squeezing it until the rune's coloration corrupts from a mighty Red to a sickly green.     The curse spreads through fleeing troops, drawing at the strength in their legs. An anchor to one's stamina. Making muscles ache and burn and feel like formless rubber. Dragging on each man who flees as if he had already just run a marathon.     "Stay with us, won't you? I promise *I* won't kill anyone who surrenders to us."     The furious dead she's given a second life to, well, she can't speak for /them/.
Lilian Rook	'Dragons despised humans. They wouldn't work with Zephiel. But... what else would one call things like that? Could he have gotten them from the Otherworld?'     "Entirely possible, Lord Roy, though he seems to think of us in low regard." says Lilian. "If he has mages powerful enough to bind dragons, though, I wonder why he would have need of them at all."     'Only the Saint's staff could truly raise the dead, Dame Commander. And it is preciously depleted. But...'     "That's honestly a relief to hear, Father." Lilian says. Her reflexive smile from talking to Lucius twitches with an even deeper, older reflex, by leaving off his name from the title. "We can rule out the worst case scenario, then."     'I doubt they've kept any here. They've pulled almost all their troops out. If those things can break castles so...'     "I've been thinking the same, Merlinus." says Lilian, barely remembering his title preference. "If he needn't even commit troops to the utter destruction of military assets, annexing a nation is something certainly doable with a handful of troops; at least, in the short term." she says. "Which implies an outline to his goals."     One glance at the imaginary locks and food makes Lilian look Chad's way. "My." softly falls from her lips, in the way of her habit. "Not as if I can criticize, though."     'Sleep, child,'     A pair of running soldiers cross by Lilian not a minute later. She doesn't hide. Despite her mysteriously cloaked presentation, that much is probably to be expected from someone who professes so boldly to be a knight. She steps into the center of the hall, draws her sword, hand lightly on the tip of the scabbard to angle it, with a sound halfway to resonating glass from scraping steel. In a single, blinding motion, she advances between them as they slow to respond to her, and cuts both of them in passing, where they--     Are struck down with black-tinged gold burns(?) matching the lacerations of her sword, drawn through them where she'd struck. They're clearly extraordinarily painful, seeing as they steam and bleed in the aftermath, but not enough to kill. The edge passes through the ontology of the men and takes their strength with it. It's like the cold and dreadful morphine of failing consciousness in the moments of massive bleeding, but the blood ceases pooling before long. The glowing sword tracks fade to surface scars.     She leaves it drawn. A jet black mirror of a blade, etched with floral swirls of dull scarlet, its edges sharply fading to glassy gossamer, catching the ambient light in a soft sword-shaped halo at the right angle.     'He's a strong man. Some healer you are. Get him ready for transport. No excuses.'     "!"     Lilian plunges down the stairs with Ru-Li, but she doesn't evade the soldier at the bottom step; she could do that in an eyeblink. Striking from behind where a thrust from her sword would suffice, Lilian slams into the soldier with the inside of her arm to the back of his neck, quickly gripping her opposite elbow, swinging her legs to spin fully around him, and arching down in a forceful twisting backflip, hurling him over her shoulder into the opposite wall; away from the stairs, and when he gets to his feet, facing her directly. She takes his place at the bottom, ready in stance with electric energy.     "Go!"
Angela	What else would they call them if not dragons? "Doubt he's too fond of humanity himself considering he started this whole war for no apparent reason." Ceri mutters. "The Saint's Staff and Kukuru..." Kukuru has a bit of a reputation amongst Lob COrp agents at this point. Ceri watches Chad at work with the lockpicks but stairs are her natural enemy. She takes a breath and stops there, tinking about how to navigate this. She closes her eyes a moment and then rolls back with her chair. ...And then she propels herself forward, chair included so she misses all the steps of the stair and is bound to land on the very soldier Lilian is about to cut down as...cushioning, perhaps? She'll worry about the part about getting back up stairs later. She's at the point in her life where she's actually trying not to die. Tennant asides to Hokma while snipin'. "...How about now?" Tennant asks between shots. "If you must know--we had some involvement in the Smoke War before we became a Wing. It was part of the process we had to undertake in order to become one. I don't particularly wish to get in the sordid details." Hokma asides. Tennant nearly gets skewered by arrows and elects to move from their position, darting to try and crouch down behind some new cover to catch their breath.
Blemishine	She landed on the ground with a heavy impact, shielding the two warriors with her own body.     "Come. I won't have the young dying for me."     "Miss Dysnomia...! Are you okay!?" Marcus is already on the case, coming to her defense, and Blemishine has no intention of letting him have to weather any more arrows than he must. She steps up to help receive her share of the attacks, using both shield and sword to ensure they don't have to deal with /too/ much, and that they can relocate if they so choose.     After a moment where she watches Shanna's high-flying swoops get the chance to come down without being at risk of being shot down, she manages a small, slightly bittersweet smile despite herself - side-glancing over her shoulder at the old knight when there's a momentary lull. "...Lord Roy and the others are awfully fortunate to have men like you and Mister Merlinus watching over them. But don't worry - I don't think a single person here has any plans to give up their lives that easily."     Her attention shifts to Dysnomia. "But I'm sure that still hurts, so let me heal you when we have a second, okay? For now...!"     Glancing back towards where the archers are posted up, the blonde swordswoman can spot Dieck clambering up - so she can kill two birds with one stone, giving him a hand and freeing them up from fire as well. She rears back her shield arm, infusing it with a little bit of her light-based Arts as she loosens it on her forearm...     ...and puts her weight into /throwing/ it in a shield toss forceful enough to send it spiraling up on a flight path that'll end up bashing one of those unfortunate bowmen in the face. More than that though, the force of the impact'll trigger the infusion she put into it - causing it to let out an abrupt, blinding burst of light in all directions! Like a magical flashbang right in the middle of all the archers.     She's not too concerned about losing the shield, she'll go grab it later! It's fine.
Madeleine Cadrasteia	Madeleine's eyes narrow as she absorbs the dead knight's knowledge. This was important. If Brunnya could be intercepted before returning to Sacae, Bern would have a lot of trouble on its hands. But this moment was not the time for planning next moves, not while there's enemy soldiers to contend with. The huntress brawls her way out of the stables and into the courtyard where open battle has commenced. Finally, room enough to swing a spear!     "Drogrung!" "My lady." The spear is off Madeleine's back and in her hands as she leaps toward the back rank of a Bernish spear formation, occupied by a bevy of undead to their front. She swings prematurely, or so it seems - until a ghostly serpentine tail, a dozen feet long and two feet thick, manifests at the end of the spear and whips forward, sending spearmen careening forward into their fellows. The formation's integrity rapidly breaks down, turning a single mass of fighting-men into a scattered, dismayed crowd as some try to turn around while others simply break and run. Madeleine breathes out a cloud of frigid mist that expands and spreads across the formation, leaving hands too numb to hold weapons and boots frozen to the ground. She doesn't even stick around to watch the skeletons cut down what little resistance remains.     Instead, she's dashing to the next group of soldiers, just in time to see Aidan's charge earn him a stab wound. Madeleine jumps *over* the ranks of spearmen, batting aside pike-shafts to clear a path to the injured squirrel. "You *need* to stop getting hit in the lungs," she half-growls at him as she does her best to ward away follow-up attacks. She earns a few cuts herself for the effort, unable to entirely turn away every blade, but her chainmail protects her better than the Quicknest Knight's cloth armor. "And don't go charging off on your own like that unless you have to." She curses as a spear strikes her low on the thigh, below her armor, releasing a spray of blood. With a broad sweep of Madeleine's spear, Drogrung manifests its head to spray choking smoke over the formation, giving the pair of elites time enough to regroup with Dieck's mercenaries.
Dysnomia	"Come. I won't have the young dying for me."     The expression that washes over Mia's face as Marcus and Blemishine sweep in to her aid, from utter bewilderment to annoyance, traced with something a little softer she doesn't understand. "You're just making this harder for yourself," she grumbled, with a gruffness that was too forced to be completely authentic.     But that wasn't enough to keep her from using Marcus and Blemishine's shield as cover, plucking arrows from her body. Their damage wouldn't last. But for now, it hurt, and the blood leaking out of her was proof enough. She breathed in, deep, and Marcus could see a light building rapidly up in Mia's chest. "Hold a moment...!"     She leaned out from the protection of the shield, opened her mouth and let loose a thin stream of arcing plasma, tearing through the line of archers in the back, sting nostrils with the sharp scent of air after lightning's strike, hot enough to melt stone.     Another inhale, and the light in her chest slowly faded.     "But I'm sure that still hurts, so let me heal you when we have a second, okay? For now...!"     "In a second, it'll already be gone." She ripped out another arrow to demonstrate...But while the wound near immediately closed, there was a strain in her voice she couldn't quite hide. "Now, we go." She flashed Marcus a fierce, grim smile before continuing with the advance, lashing at soldiers with her whip.
Flamel Parsons	Did you know? Psychonautian telekinesis doesn't work on door locks. It's true! They have to use super spy gear, or, like, puzzles. The real experts manifest a false paper self and slip it through a mail slot. Flamel isn't an archetypokinetic, sadly, and he's gotta keep his focus elsewhere. So he sticks to encouraging Chad, and providing cover! And avoiding spearmen, which requires him to do a lot of levitation-powered leaping. He could get in on some of the violence, but... the sight of all this is truly, deeply putting him off it. This place should be vibrant, alive. The kind of place a child could visit, demonstrably. It's a graveyard instead.     Then he slips down the staircase. The others have some way to deal with this guy, but it sure looks like Lilian does. He hooks hard onto her leg during the spinning takedown maneuver, running along the wall while she twists in the air, and propels himself forward while imparting a huge boost of rotational and translational kinetic energy to her move all at once. That should get the bastard. "Going!" He shouts when he follows her order. He flickers out of invisibility as he arcs through the air in front of the tossed officer, bouncing hard off the wall and scanning the room for the captured person -- the dying person.     Someone affected by -- dark magic? It's got a presence on the psychic frequencies, but not one he understands, not one he's familiar with. Unfortunately, not one he can cure. He's scanning the room for the healer and seeing if he can rapidly astrally force his way into their mind and make them compliant with a squad of invading infiltrators, pointing two fingers at them like a gun and blasting his astral self into their skull if he can manage it. They can't be feeling all that loyal, given how they're being treated. And given the innate concern that must be provoked by what sounds like a supernaturally poisoned wound, or something worse. "Let our medic through and help her *fix this*!"
Shinmyoumaru Sukuna	Shinmyoumaru's lookout tsukumogami settle into place. That they're just present is enough to reassure her - and it ensures that it's a whole lot harder for a searching patrol to follow behind them without being spotted. And that's a good thing, because there *are* patrols. Shinmyoumaru's needle pipes up with a high-pitched, penetrating voice that only she can really hear since the tsukumogami isn't exerting itself, but she can still hear and relay. "There's some people moving," Shinmyoumaru says, indicating some of the repositioning soldiers so the group can sneak past or put down. *She* sneaks past, anyway. Shinmyoumaru gets to the top of the stairs to the wine cellar and takes a moment to really open herself to magic. Meika is *blazing*; Shinmyoumaru looks toward her with surprise as she feels her, then tries to shut her out. Even with her as... bright? Intense? as she is, the dark magic is powerful enough that she can feel that, too. Possibly stronger by comparison to the brightness she reads Meika as. "There's something in there," Shinmyoumaru hisses. "It's powerful...!" She's got a powerful magical item of her own, though, and she pulls out her Mallet again, the painted hammer looking more like a toy than the real item of power that it is. And there's someone between them. Shinmyoumaru can help deal with him, but she has to be able to see, and she can't, not really; she can tell sort of where he is, she can certainly *hear* him, but she can't see him. She holds up the Mallet, uncertain. And then Ru Li hooks her bowl with a finger. Shinmyoumaru, in her flying bowl, feels weightless to Ru Li. There's a bit of resistance, like pulling - well, a floating bowl through still water - but it's far less than her weight and the size of the bowl would indicate, it's easy to carry her around. "Who~oa!" Shinmyoumaru isn't a medic, like Odette. She's a fighter too, but she also has a lot of other tricks up her sleeve, and she decides to use one; the Miracle Mallet is already in hand, so she swings it, trying to bounce it off the armoured man as she's dragged past. "Open up!" There is a distinct surge of magic from the wishing tool as Shinmyoumaru unleashes the power of the Miracle Mallet... ...and every catch, every tie, every sealing and binding on or near the soldier threatens to snap open, because Shinmyoumaru can't aim so well when she's blind. Belt buckles, armour catches and ties, and even shoelaces threaten to undo themselves. Shinmyoumaru snags her obi with her free hand and makes sure it's pulled tight and not about to slip loose. Some corks pop free from bottles in the wine cellar, if any remain intact. There aren't any doors between where they are and where they're going - it's not THAT far - but if there were they'd be open too, and even shackles or ropes might undo themselves. And once Ru Li comes to a stop, Shinmyoumaru hops up in her bowl, clearing a lot of space in it. "Put him in here if you need to move him!" she says to Odette. It doesn't look like anyone human-sized will fit, but that's why she's got the Mallet; she can shrink him, or make the bowl bigger, as needed. (Shrinking is easier. If the bowl is much wider, it wouldn't fit through some doors.) She keeps looking worriedly in the direction of the dark magic she felt...
Desire Stars	Hey, great work! What flying school are you from?     Na-Go loves high-fives, and any excuse she can take to look past the grim reality of the situation, she will. "Flying school..." Na-Go genuinely has to think for a moment--her upbringing was one where so much was projected onto and expected of her that she wonders just briefly if 'flight school' was part of it. "O-oh, I wasn't taught formally," she eventually decides to say--her 'teachers' were Haru, Jinako, Robin and a host of skeletal warriors. Could he have gotten them from the Otherworld?     Back in the castle proper, Geats shrugs. "From there," he says, "Or from his new friend."     A rushing spearman, straggling on his way to join the battle outside, forces a snap reaction from Geats. The alcove is too narrow for the same trick from before--so he cracks the butt of the rifle-form Magnum Shooter against the soldier's temple as he passes, one leg pre-emptively placed to scoot around the falling soldier and provide a surface less rigit for him to fall upon than the floor. Geats gradually lowers the soldier down, uttering a sigh of relief.     He gives a little two finger salute to Lucius, as the sleep spell takes hold of a soldier behind them. "Not your first time around the block, is it?" Geats whispers to the priest. --vulneraries aren't working? That shouldn't be a mortal wound.     "...you have another one of those up your sleeve?" asks Geats, softly. " Pressing his back up against an alcove, he motions towards the guard in the imposing Bernish armor. "He looks important." 'Too important not to ask a few questions,' is the implication. Go!     Whether or Lucius can manage another sleep spell, Geats breaches the doorway with a sprint into a slide, low-profiling past the big fellow as Ru Li, Odette, and Shinmyoumaru race past. He focuses on the subordinate first--'healer' implies 'lightweight,' and if there's any sense of fight in the healer's eyes, Geats is quick with a shot for the leg into a rising swipe with the butt of the rifle, aimed across the jaw.     If Lucius can't get another sleeping spell off--if Lilian's throw still leaves the bigger soldier standing, Geats drops into a quick crouch, scopes in, and aims three shots, center of mass.
Dark Horses	SECRET MISSION CLEAR      Buffa gets rewarded for taking out three consecutive guys, a small metal box dropping from the sky in front of- he immediately cuts it in half, and with a quick motion of his free hand, grabs what remains inside, a small plastic bauble that is immediately slotted into his belt.      DUAL ON. ZOMBIE. ARMED DRILL. READY, FIGHT.      Buffa's lower half is now partially armored as a flash of white covers it and the padding materializes, but more importantly, his once empty hand is now filled with an oversized drill, one that he immediately puts to use by using to punch through some of the incoming soldiers that now storm into the courtyard. Not that he really cares about taking care of more grunts like this. No, he's a lot more interested in the deserters, honestly. He's got half a mind to strike them down, but he's not that reckless. If they're cowardly enough to flee like this, they're probably cowardly enough to spill information. Or maybe they won't, he's not going to be grilling them personally, he's just here for the payout.      Once he's got enough breathing space, he aggressively rotates his belt, causing his body to do a weird, rather disturbing looking cartwheel as his body and armor rearranged so that the Armed Drill armor is now on top and the Zombie armor is now on the bottom.      REVOLVE ON.      It doesn't really change how he fights or how he approaches this, honestly, it's more just for the movement tech as he goes to block off one of the fleeing soldiers, dropping his drill on the ground as he tries to grab them by the neck.      "Where are you going?"
Kayoko Kirenai	"Whatever those beasts were, I doubt they've kept any here."     Implicitly in Merlinus's reassurance is the fact that *eventually*, they'll still have to contend with the 'dragons', if they have any hopes of actually winning the war. Both the concepts of 'fighting a dragon' and 'winning a war' are equally vague and formless in Kayoko's mind, so she has no sense of scale for how afraid or anticipatory she should be for either of those things or the path to them.     Kayoko's instinct, whenever soliders run down the hallway to the invisible Elites, is to first always hide herself alone. It makes sense, when she's more often on her own or at most paired with Meika, that she wouldn't be inclined to consider group-protection first, but particularly for being discovered while invisible, she has a flinch reflex for avoiding contact at any cost. Thankfully, being that she's the source of it all, she can't be expected to do that much of the secondary work in avoiding the obstacles, so there's no need to test the boundaries for how slow she is to consider the rest of the party's physical placement. "He's a strong man. Some healer you are. Get him ready for transport. No excuses."     That has to be Hector-- right? Wounded and on the brink of death inside the makeshift cell. That means getting past the armored guard, and most important getting the healer in to treat him before whatever the mage did to him finishes him off. Normally Kayoko would be the healer, instinctually ready to engage in triage when a wounded party is present-- but here she isn't, and she just has to make do with that. <J-IC-Scene> Kayoko Kirenai says, "I can-- either keep us hidden, or do something to him. I'm sorry, I can't do both." <J-IC-Scene> Ru Li Cheng says, "Deal with him. I will get them where they need to go."     With a blinding tide of light (no more than usual, but crashing against previously shielded eyes), Kayoko's invisibility drops away from everyone, and with it, the induced blindness. "I've got him! Rescue the prisoners! Cobalt Luster: Blinding Flash!"     Her simple shouted attack name-- does she have to do that, even when they're supposedly being stealthy?-- befits a simple technique. A fuzzy haze of searingly bright light swells in front of the armored soldier's face, growing more and more intense to completely white out his vision from seeing any of his attackers, and without the benefit of radial taste or echolocation to make up for it (presumably).
Meika Kirenai	'I doubt they've kept any here. They've pulled almost all their troops out.'     {"Oh, righ-"} Meika flinches at the pat. Don't touch me don't touch me don't touch me don't touch me- She misses whatever Merlinus was trying to convey. She doesn't know much about military procedures, or the grand tactics and strategies used at the level where people are just numbers. Her mind just glazes over from discomfort and slight silver-lining thankfulness for the thick fabric of her letterman. {"Right. That makes sense."} Her words slip out only for the purpose of cutting off that interaction.     For as little as she wants to look at the projected memories of the interior, it pulls funny at the magical girl's heart, to see how Chad remembers the exagerated parts. The challenges he apparently surpassed feeling bigger than they look makes her almost want to smile- the rest of it makes her throat tighten. Oh. Yeah.     I could get through the door. Maybe it opens from the other side. But he's got this. It's got to matter, that he's the one who can do it. And I'm not even transformed- Still a hair rattled, she forgets that the other kid can't see her nod his way in encouragement. She silently clears her throat, and- {"... That's a cool trick."}     Obvious to Flamel, and unfortunate for Meika, there is no real proper 'silence' in the area Cobalt is veiling. No field, no dampening. People still aren't hearing the noises coming from the group, though- Because Meika is actively obfuscating the memory as it's percieved and formed in any of the enemy soldiers. Standing in the occupied staircase for an extended period, shielding chatter and ambient noise, is properly toilsome from the precision needed more than the action itself-     But Meika still silently curses, when Ru Li bolts off, when Ceri careens downwards, when Lilian charges, herself breaking formation only to get closer and maintain her efforts on whoever is just past the doorway, and out of her own perception until she's closer. A little warning would have been nice. I'm doing the best I- 'Go!'     Meika doesn't notice her hand is starting to f-f-flicker into the stairway wall she's pressing against as she scrambles down. Her handgun finds its way to her free hand, but she's not even thinking of using it yet, as the Bernish knight gets dispatched quickly by combined efforts. Fighting's too much to focus on with everything else- instead, eyes shut tight, she tries to stretch out and hear for any activity in prisoners, or in rushing guards. They've got to be near. This feels like it'd be it, it'd make sense, and if it's not it'll be so much harder-     Rock cracks as she pulls her palm away from the wall. Again, just like the roots outside, it's completely silent and unnoticed.
Marigold	"A prodigy," Shanna says in awe when she next 'surfaces' from her diving strikes, not seeming to mind that she's lightly misted with blood. She acts like they don't interrupt the flow of her conversation with Na-Go at all. "Hey! My mentor isn't around. You'll be my new teacher from now on, okay? You have to look out for me!" That wink is insufferably cute.      "... we can't have word reaching Bern." "No ma'am, we can't." Dieck whistles mid-climb for Shanna's attention, then spares a hand to make a sweeping gesture; she nods and swoops upwards, looking for runners like an owl hunting fieldmice. Many of the remaining Bernish soldiers raise their hands and drop their weapons in panicked self-preservation; those who don't take a javelin to the back, one by one. She's exceptionally good at converting 'disorganized' or 'distracted' into 'dead'.      From across the courtyard, Blemishine could swear that Dieck looks her in the eye. He hesitates at the lip of the wall for her shield-flashbang to go off, then hauls himself up and sweeps an archer's leg with his greatsword in the same motion. When Mia starts to sweep her breath-beam, he nods to her and picks up Blemi's shield to protect himself from the plasma so she can sweep uninterrupted, then slams through the few remaining archers in sword-and-board style before throwing the still-glowing shield back to Blemi.      "Pleasure working with ya," they probably can't hear him say, but might see him mouth. A second later, he unhooks a small brown flask from his belt and lobs it down to Maddie and Aidan: it's easy to guess that it's supposed to be a reinvigorating concoction. They won't be good as new, but it'll slow the bleeding and dull the pain.      Then he's sliding down a crumbled part of the wall to rejoin them, easy as if it were a snowbank. God he's way too cool. "Hey," he says, tapping Buffa on the shoulder in passing. "Good work cleaning up. Think we're done out here, yeah?" The way he tilts his head back towards the castle is a quiet invitation to put the strangled soldier down. Then he grins. "Not taking a cut from me, are you? Buy you a drink if you're not."      "Lord Roy and the others are awfully fortunate to have men like you..."      "Nothing to do with fortune," Marcus says, with the slightly grumpy smile that kind old men automatically attain the knowing of. "They still have Merlinus and I because when we were young we didn't take stupid risks. Now see that you two don't either." He pauses as one last arrow pings off his shield, then tilts his head, yielding. "Well. Not many stupid risks."
Marigold	"Not your first time around the block, is it?"      "It isn't." Lucius smiles serenely, and even though it can't be seen, it's audible in his voice. "Nor is it yours. Nor, apparently, the Dame Commander's. It is a magic, and I've plenty more of it; isn't mercy a duty of the stronger?"      Armor is fastened with clasps. The armored commander at the bottom of the stairs has the worst day of his life. All but the base layer of chainmail and his helmet falls off him; then Ru Li bypasses him, Kayoko blinds him, Ceri's wheels slam into his back, and Lilian dashes him against the wine cellar's wall, shattering casks with his body. Just as he's about to get up with a miserable groan- "How could you! Narcian--" he's bullied yet again, with a gentle smile. "Sleep, if you would." And he does.      Also undone by Shinmyoumaru's unlocking: the manacles of the large blue-armored man sitting against the far wall. Without hesitation- but with a noise of agonized exertion- he grabs the face of the Bernish soldier attending his wounds and slams their head into the wall. They slump.      "Lord Hector! You're alive!" "Roy? Is that you? Merlinus- Lucius?!" "Father Lucius, now. Oh, Hector. I never thought to see you like this--" "No, no... don't heal me. I'm not long for this world." Even though clearly in excruciating pain, lying in a pool of his own blood and clutching the hole in his breastplate and torso, he waves Lucius's aid away.      "It's that divine axe... hhhh, from years ago. I was fated to die like this. Remember?" He smiles meagerly. "But that's... hardly the most important thing. Ahah."      The rest of the wine cellar seems to be an infirmary for Bern's soldiers, mostly, who are either too wounded or too frightened to do much about your intrusion. But one whole wing of it is giving wide berth to what Shinmyoumaru's magic senses detected.      It's a dragon. Or it was. Only a few scraps of red scales and the vague shape of goopy bones are identifiable. The most of it has become some kind of ink-black smoky ooze. It's boiling off and seeping into the ground, like some noxious chemical that can't long remain in this world. The air around it crinkles, not like a heat mirage, but like space has become a fragile tissue paper.      "Roy. Bern... truly has allied with the dragons. I don't understand. I'm so sorry. You and Lilina... you deserve a bright future. Not to endure the Scouring again."
Trudy Grimm	As Bernish soldiers begin to surrender, the witch hums brightly in satisfaction. Those who didn't listen and managed to shake off or ignore her curse are swiftly dealt with by Shanna-- serving as an example of what Trudy had said moments ago. She approaches, dispelling Uruz and raising her freed-up hand to make a circling gesture.     "Come now, let us all get nice and friendly." To enforce her point, those charred remains still ambulatory begin rounding up those who had surrendered. She casts a look across those who had answered her call to rise and fight again-- singling out the highest ranking officer amongst them-- and wiggles her fingers at him.     "Captain, keep our guests entertained. No roughhousing unless they try to escape, mm?" Her glowing gaze shifts to the Bernish troops as they're brought together, "Oh, have a seat if you will. I will leave it to our camp's leaders as to what will be done with you lot. Though..." Her eyes close, her smile widening, "They're a nice sort, so you might keep your lives. 'Might' is a better chance then 'Won't', mm~?"     Turning in place, the witch twiddles the floating Eiwaz rune around above her extended hand, fixing her eyes on the castle into which the other party had ventured, "Even for me, this has been enough death for one day, ahaha~..."     "Shall I step in here, then?" Grimnir's voice rings out as the old man shuffle out of the forest. Trudy glances his way, then back to the castle.     "Do as you wish."     His beard hides his mouth but one can tell the codger smiles at that. After some time, he's brought himself up to near where the Bernish troops are being gathered together and, with a creaky groan, seats himself. A long curved pipe is pulled from his robe and he taps it a few times, "Don't mind me, boys and girls. Just an old man out to learn the ways of the world." He packs the pipe, his one eye closed as he lights it and puffs a few times, "Happy to be alive, yeah? A sight better than those whose fervor overrode their sense, heh."
Desire Stars	Hey! My mentor isn't around. You'll be my new teacher from now on, okay? You have to look out for me! "Wha--I mean I'm a rookie--" It's too late. How can she say no to a look like that (even misted with blood)? "Eheh... AH!" A spearman catches her by surprise, and she forgets what Haru taught her for a moment, wildly flailing with the propeller and just wailing on him, very much unlike the controlled (if still amateurish) strikes she'd shown a moment ago. "Only if you promise to teach me what you know, too!"     Getting that off her chest seems to help bring a little of her earlier discipline to bear, as well--her next takeoff is more graceful, although when she lands, she finds that her choice of straggler has already thrown his weapon down in surrender. "Um..." What do you say to someone surrendering? "Thank you," she says, in that breathless, awkward way that people do when they say it for lack of anything else to say. She kicks the weapon away, makes a little nod of gratefulness, then swivels her attention over to Dieck.     "We're all done over here," she calls, bouncing up and down and waving adorably with her free hand. No, no... don't heal me. I'm not long for this world.     In the castle, things are far less merry.     Geats lowers his rifle, his red lenses fixing on Hector. He removes the Magnum Buckle from his Driver--a pillar of blue light washes up from below, briefly occluding him as an emblem of his fox-motif helmet appears before it. Left standing before Hector is Ace Ukiyo, in his DGP activewear.     There's a grim, sad recognition in Ace's brown eyes. Lucius' guess is unfortunately correct in more than one sense. "A bill coming due, is it?" he asks, thinking on it. Ace retrieves a bottle of water from his baggy, high-collar windbreaker, opening and emptying it.     He turns, strides over to the subdued soldier, steps over him, and pours wine from one of the intact casks into the plastic bottle. Returning to Hector, "Here," he says, taking a knee near Hector and extending it to the fallen hero. He looks over his shoulder--namely, at everyone else.      He doesn't say anything--but he doesn't have to. His eyes speak volumes:      *If there's anything you can do, doing it while he's distracted would be the time to do it.*
Madeleine Cadrasteia	Madeleine catches the flask from Dieck, raises it in a mock toast to the mercenary captain, and takes a swig before passing the brew off to Aidan. "You'll be needing the rest of this," she says. Surveying the battlefield, she notices things are pretty much cleaned up. "I'll go see if the team inside's run into trouble." And tell them what she's learned, she doesn't say. Hopefully Aidan didn't get a good look at her gore-soaked off hand.     Madeleine hustles down staircases and along corridors. To her, a half-dozen Elites passing in the last few minutes is an easy enough thing to track down, so she finds her way to the wine cellar in time to witness Hector's final goodbye. Of more interest to her, however, is the pile of smoking dragon leftovers. As the others gather around the fallen lord, Madeleine examines the dissolving corpse.     After a little trepidation, she makes up her mind and kneels down next to the smoking mass. Drawing her knife, she does her best to create an opening in the remains, grits her teeth, and reaches in to feel around. There may only be enough left for vague impressions, but everything she can learn about these beasts is a possible advantage.
Ru Li Cheng	'It's that divine axe. I was fated to die like this.'      Ru Li opens his mouth to speak, but he can't. Not because he has nothing to say, nor because he's uncertain what to say, but because he physically cannot - the dissolving chemical taste of the dragon, the salty sweat and iron blood, the fleshy innards of dying men, it all bubbles together in a concoction of vileness. He's forced to stumble over, past Hector, past the injured men, and throw up again in the corner. That's twice now he's shown how weak he is, twice he's shown how pathetic he is.      It's unseemly for men to behave this way, isn't it?      He steadies himself against the basement wall with his hand. It's unseemly for a *god* to behave this way, nevermind a man. Whatever he'd meant to say, whatever emotional thoughts he had, can only be boiled down to him casting a gaze at Odette and mouthing, 'save him.'
Aidan Proudpick	"No, I-" Aidan heaves a breath. It doesn't look like they punctured his lungs, he isn't coughing up blood, but he has enough of it streaming out of his armor. That's worse than any berating from anyone else. The growl in her voice. He was... showing off? Trying to impress the handsome military captain? Trying to impress the Kamen Riders? None of those are very good reasons. "Thanks," he finally just says with a grin. As another spear comes towards her, Aidan thrusts his shield in the way, ducking in around each blow of Madeleine's to block one of the sword blows, letting Madeleine do the actual stabbing while he plays shieldmaiden. Shield...maid. Shield butler? Shieldknight? He plays Shieldprincess for her, just long enough for her to spray out the choking gas. He rushes with her up to the rest of the mercenaries, only to look up. Aidan CAN hear him say it, thank you squirrel ears, and looks up. He is a little bit distracted by Dieck sliding down the wall like a total badass, simply sliding down. "Hurricane, that man is amazing." He turns back to Madeleine just in time to have the flask thrust into his chest, "Oh, thanks again!" He doesn't even hesitate to ask what it is, simply tipping it back to drink. He heads back over to Trudy as Madeleine heads into the castle to use her expertise. He watches, with a fair bit of interest, but also digust. But he doesn't leave. He is just sort of hovering near her, watching, staring. They have stories on the Windswept Continent, as most places do, of the walking dead.
Lilian Rook	'isn't mercy a duty of the stronger?'     In the castle corridors, Lilian pauses; in a way that isn't patient waiting or restful contemplation, but something else.     "That's funny." Lilian says. "I've said those words countless times to countless people. Only, I used 'luxury' instead of 'duty'." Lilian looks back at Lucius with two parts admiration to one part guilt. "I tell people that they have to be strong if they want to afford being kind in conflict. I say it like it's scolding, but between us, it's because I hate when people without half-baked resolve die for the crime of showing compassion." It isn't long before she looks away. "I'm sworn to kill if I have to, Father Lucius. But I don't want to; not human beings, at least; so I make certain I'm strong enough I don't have to."     Lilian holds her breath. "Not because I'm a good person. It's just that there was a time where I really did try to kill someone; and I thought I really had killed a lot of people in the process. I haven't forgotten what that did to me. So I don't want to do it again." She keeps walking without turning back.     ......     'It's that divine axe... hhhh, from years ago. I was fated to die like this. Remember?'     Lilian is someone who describes herself as infinitely selfish. Lilian is someone who always tries to have everything her way; even when they're impossible. But between both her mentor and her fellow Bloom of Humanity, Lilian knows especially well what a geas is; and she knows and swears by the consequences of this sort of power.     Squeezing her fist tight enough to shake, Lilian utters in hoarse whisper, "Power bled for is power earned. Power bargained for is not." Unable to tear her eyes away from the man she'd just met, she still says anyways, "So I couldn't be even more fortunate this time. But it still feels like something slipped through my fingers anyways. Because I was too late to get it back." Lilian squeezes her eyes shut, and holds back prickling heat. "I hate it. I hate this feeling." she whispers.
Shinmyoumaru Sukuna	Sucks to be that guy! Shinmyoumaru doesn't wear armour - she doesn't like the way it feels, and in any case can you imagine making it to inchling scale? - but she *does* know that you have to hold it in place with ties and buckles and latches and was counting on it causing a distraction; she wasn't counting on it *all* coming open, but really, is she going to complain something worked better than expected? She makes a face at him from behind, which is lost as Ru Li pulls her along. Her original wish was going to be to open the path, and that it catches the latches holding the large man in place is perhaps not unexpected when you take that into account. But given his injuries, Shinmyoumaru *is* surprised to see him rise at all. Her eyes widen. Shinmyoumaru raises the Miracle Mallet again, but it vibrates in her hand, warningly, as she opens her mouth. It's never done that before, and she's surprised enough that she closes it again with an almost audible clack of teeth. She doesn't know how to heal with it anyway, or at least she's never asked it to. She doesn't know what to say to Hector. This feels like someone else's moment. But she hates it. Even the strong can be cught in fate... "Me too," she murmurs, having picked up Lilian's words. Either she's got good ears, or she was listening for her. But she can still feel that oil-slick magic - maybe that's what the Mallet is reacting to, she thinks, as she looks at the remnants of the dragon. It feels wrong, twisted. It *looks* wrong. Shinmyoumaru points at the dead (?) dragon. "That's what I felt," she says. "It's all... uugh." How do you describe it? She can't, really, beyond what she's already said, and: "It's dark magic. If they're doing something with it I don't think it's a good thing! But if they're allied, why're they just letting a corpse sit there like that?" She pauses a moment. "Oh no, is it leaking?"
Dysnomia	Dysnomia scoffed at Marcus protectiveness, turning away, trying to hide the smile. She set upon the remaining soldiers with lances of lightning. THeir conciousness, bleeding from their minds, didn't leave the same queasy feeling in her gut that they had, as Kukuru had massacared the occupipants of trash island. It didn't feel good, exactly. Like something else.     Eventually, there were no more of Bern's soldiers left to kill. And Mia found herself wandering down after the stealth team into the ruins of the castle. The smell of embers searing her nostiles, she trailed after Madeleine, and what she saw took her breath away.     "...I knew it." She said, softly, as the corpse decompossed in front of her eyes. "That damage wasn't human, done with swords arrows and spears. Fire. Smashed walls, with no boulders or anything, like they were just rammed apart."     "So, they're alive after all...?" Dysnomia couldn't help but let the sentence lilt into a question. The death, the devastation...It made it bittersweet. The grief of all the others weighed heavy on her shoulders. Where had they hidden, all this time? Why were they fighting for Bern, under the ancestor of the man who'd defeated them?     "Why are you like this?" She asked the corpse of the dragon.     It did not answer.
Flamel Parsons	Flamel quickly rushes through his own memories, scampering through elaborate archives within his own mind until he finds the right microfilm. An actively speaking image of a certain horrid man behind a table, saying, "Bern has always been a land won through blood. In the Scouring, it was the last bastion of the dragons." He looks agonized, rushing to the man's side, looking up to Lucius, to Roy, then back to the man, Hector. Then to the body of the dragon. He should, maybe, do some kind of psychometry, some clairvoyance on it.     Making a soft, swear-like frustrated vocalization, he tears away to go to the dragon instead. He's staring daggers at wounded Bernian soldiers and daring them to get out of their beds because Flamel Parsons can do *all kinds* of non-warcrimes things here. They'll be mentally healthy and emotionally whole and experiencing the full breadth of empathy for the victims of Bern for *years* if they make one bad move while Flamel Parsons is kneeling down nearer the dragon and taking samples, grabbing readings, doing everything he can to learn about it.     He turns back towards Hector as he works. His teeth grit. The only thing he can do for the dying isn't medicine. It's arguably the opposite. The Sigmund Procedure "Au Clair de la Lune" is truly and intensely lethal. "Lucius," He calls out. "I can't help Hector live, but I have a procedure to help him die in a more peaceful way, with that healing technique I told you about before. Would you and Chad help me? Would it be *right* for Hector?"     If he isn't stopped or warded away, he's going to approach Hector once he's done with the samples and scanning.
Blemishine	"...Wow..." The sound of silent awe comes in the face of Dieck's handiwork, which Blemishine practically watches with amazed sparkles flashing behind her eyes. He's obviously no stranger to improvising with whatever he has on hand, but to do it like this and make it look like he's /used/ to working with Otherworlders like them takes a special kind of guy. She's almost still stunned still by the time he's tossing her shield back.     Which she catches handily, slotting back onto her forearm while beaming a smile back up towards the mercenary. She can get the gist of what he said easily enough, and gives a contented nod back up to him. "Where did he learn that...?"     Well. Not many stupid risks.     When things begin winding down, and there's no more projectiles or blades needing deflecting, the blonde knight turns to the much older one with a grin that's somewhere between entirely genuine and wry. "Aha... I can try and promise that much, sir. A stupid risk once in a while is sometimes the only way to get anything done!" Her gaze and tone both falter, only a tiny bit, after. "...Or to learn important lessons."     She gives a tension-breaking chuckle right after that, turning to Dysnomia to nod at her. Well, more to inspect her injury to see if it's really healed up. She, maybe, didn't miss the hint of strain in her voice. "Mmn... nope, still gonna give you a look-over later. Or ask Miss Odette to do it!" She says it like that's that.     Despite all of that, the state of Castle Araphen and the remnants of battle don't give a lot to be cheery about past brief moments. And especially not when she glances to the keep, as Madeleine heads off inside. If she were asked, she'd say she was also moving in there and towards the wine cellar to make sure Chad and the others have managed alright...     ...but that was never in doubt, with a group like theirs. Stopping at the top of the stairway to the wine cellar as if keeping watch, she can hear plenty well enough. What they're saying. Before long, maybe also step down there and commit the sights to memory. Important ones, like the monstrous corpse, to properly discuss it later.     But... not now.
Dark Horses	Kamen Rider Buffa's tapped on the shoulder, and he just drops the soldier he was holding by the neck as his head tilts slightly to acknowledge Dieck. Hopefully, he didn't overdo it, but honestly, if he did, they deserved it. Cowards like these that'd abandon their friends don't deserve any amount of kindness, as far as he's concerned.      "Am I here for a cut? Nobody does things for free, and if they are, they have a reason for it they're not telling you."      Buffa removes his belt, and the armor that had been encasing him flashes away, revealing the man underneath. Michinaga Azuma, currently dressed in attire more suitable for construction work than war. Possibly worrying, however, is the smirk he's giving Dieck, though despite seeming somewhat menacing, it seems to be the closest thing to friendly he's been thus far.      "Anyway, I'm not after your cut specifically, I'm here for /a/ cut. If that ends up being yours, well... Just earn it back."      Michinaga stops to think after saying this however, running a hand through his hair as he taps his foot. He could end the conversation here and just leave... HOWEVER.      "I'll take you up on a drink though. We can split the tab."      He's going to regret this, but loosening and opening up a little is fine. This isn't the DGP, after all.
Odette Raskins	"Let our medic through and help her *fix this*!" "Go!" "Put him in here if you need to move him!" Right. This is what Odette came for, isn't it? There's no time to freak out over motion sickness now, since there's a wounded dude to tend to! "Moving.. In a second. Need to make sure there's nothing hanging out, or..." Instead of finishing her explanation, Odette beelines for the man in blue armor, already reaching up to her glasses to turn on the fancier tech contained within that might let her actually identify what's wrong with him. Magic and fate might be beyond her and her glasses, but physical wounds are right up her ally, and she does a quick once-over to try figuring out where the worst wounds are. "Mister Hector? Healing you and everyone else here is all I'm good for, so..." She starts, reaching into her bag as she takes a moment to get a better idea of how many injured there are and how many others there are that need stabilizing first. There's far more than she had expected, and there's already some thoughts of rationing going through her head when she notices those scaly scraps and strange bone sludge. More importantly, she notices that look from Ace and the inaudible words from Ru Li, and she resists the urge to nod in response. Would they know she understands the signal if she doesn't say anything? Would they think she's deliberately ignoring them? What if this gets them to hate her just for not nodding, or seeming to ignore it? What if Hector notices her doing anything differently? "Is that... F-from the dragon?" Odette finally asks as she circles around Hector, gesturing broadly at the scales and goop. "Did.. Um. D-did you do that?" She asks with genuine awe while her other hand slides smoothly into her bag, keeping it in there as she sorts through the contents by touch. "You mentioned a... An axe? How'd that fight go?" All these questions are meant to keep him distracted and awake, of course, as Odette promptly squats besides Hector, pulling out a pair of bottles and a roll of sticky gauze. "Arms." Is the only thing she says before she dumps the wound-sealing solution from one bottle onto Hector's wound hole. It's certainly not pleasant-feeling in the slightest with how much it stings on contact, ideally disinfecting and clotting up the wound before she moves onto the next bottle: A cooling and numbing sludge to make the earlier application relatively less horrible! The gauze, meanwhile, is mostly there to keep everything held together and help keep the clot from reopening right away. "Come on, Mister Hector. Let's get you somewhere we can some real treatment done, and..." She looks over at Lilian while her eyes are closed, then purses her lips lightly while turning to Lucius and Shinmyoumaru. "... Do we have anyone that knows about treating magic stuff like that?" Only after she's done with Hector (whether or not it sticks) does she finally turn her attention to the rest of the wounded soldiers, allegiances to Bern or otherwise be damned.
Marigold	"Sorry, but I'm your student! You can't ask for lessons from your student, obviously!" Shanna says brightly to Na-Go, but with a wink that says 'maybe'. Dieck gives her a surprisingly warm smile and a little 'job's over' near-saluting gesture. It's easy to see why people follow him.      "Ain't that the truth," Dieck says to Buffa, leaning back to casually assess the soldier on the ground (he'll be fine, probably) with a thumb in his belt. He's a bad enough dude to read that smirk as friendly. "Someone's talking sense around here."      His lips pull in a little lopsided smile a second later. "Nah. You cover the tab. Networking fee."      Trudy shepherds the remaining Bernish soldiers together. Their highest-ranking officer is a man distinguished by having somewhat bulkier armor and a handsome axe. He takes off the helmet after dropping his weapon, seeing little point in the protection. "Tch. 'Captain'. Bern isn't fond of ransoms, you know," he says, trying his very best to look at Trudy instead of the green-burning eye sockets of the undead. "You won't get anything for us."      He lifts his chin, looks away, and swallows. "... But thanks."      Now that the hail of arrows has stopped, Marcus carefully eases himself back up to standing and motions for Lance and Alen to come out of the stable. "What did you say your name was, knight?" he says warmly to Blemishine. "You've got the makings of someone great in you, y'know. Someday, someone like Lord Roy will be-" echoing slyly- "very fortunate to have you."
Marigold	Madeleine finds something that might maybe have been an organ, once, and divines from it--      Nothing at all.      As if, even in death, it had some smoothly absolute resistance to her. Or as if it popped into being a moment ago. Or as if there were never any 'it' to which history could cling. All other divinations or psychometries find the exact same (no)thing.      "Yes. We only got one of them." Hector looks between those crowding around him with slowly-dulling eyes, and smiles wearily at Lilian and Odette in particular. "The feeling's mutual. Look at all you... kind people... I wish I could've gotten to know. A little too late." Down at his wound. "A little too early..." And then a great wracking cough. "Some things aren't meant to be."      Lucius circles around to lay a hand on Ru Li's shoulder comfortingly, but he can't tear his eyes away from Hector. They must have some shared history. "I'm sorry, Lord Hector. I wish there were something I could do. The Staff of the Saint, perhaps..." "Ahaha!" "Haha." He looks to Flamel, eyes stinging with tears. "You mean... his emotional wellbeing? Make sure his heart's at peace?"      "No," Hector interjects firmly. "I've had... hhhh, a good life. There's nothing wrong with my heart. I don't regret what led me here. Just, please-" He grasps for Roy's shoulder, and then Lucius's wrist. "Ah-?" "Anything, Lord Hector." "Protect the march of Ostia. And Lilina, my daughter. I... the Lycian League's army... you're all that's left. There's a cave in Ostia... Durandal, a dragon-slaying sword... you must." Getting steadily less coherent, despite Odette's mending.      She urges him to his feet. He chuckles, like he knows something she doesn't. He stands with immense effort-      Blood runs from every seam in his armor, trickling out of him like a wrung sponge. Growing faint, he leans on her- but he weighs too much- and collapses to his knees again, slumping. "I'm sorry. Lilina..."      Hector breathes out, with Lucius holding his shoulder, and does not breathe in. Roy, in trying to keep his face firm, looks the most like a small child he ever has.
Odette Raskins	"Only one...? W-were there more?" Odette asks as she keeps working as best she can on Hector, her movements becoming a little more frantic when it starts becoming clearer that Hector's condition isn't improving despite her efforts. "Stop talking like that. You'll... You'll be fine. We just need to get out of here, and then we can figure out what's..." She can't lie to herself that much. Even Odette can tell that something's beyond her abilities to fix, and she lets out a startled choking noise when Hector's weight shifts onto her while all his blood starts coming out again. She tries her best to keep him upright, but all that armor makes it nigh impossible to keep him up! The best she can manage is to help him down onto his knees, then slowly urges him down onto his back when he takes his last breath. "No.. no! We can... One more. Gotta..." All that blood loss can't be good, but that's something Odette knows how to treat. She can't hear nor feel him breathing any more, but that just means he's recently dead, right? Right. That means... "... I-I got this. Need his chest clear." Swallowing lightly, the EMT digs into her bag once more, unrolling a pair of paddles with wires coming out of them and leading into the bag. It takes a minute for her to get the defibrillator set up properly, but she forgets to yell for everyone to back up before starting to try resuscitating him through brute (electrical) force and steady chest compressions.  "Come on, come on...!"
Trudy Grimm	> "You won't get anything for us."     There's a slight, almost imperceptable strain in Trudy's smile when the Bernish officer says that, but she keeps her smile in place. After a moment, she pulls in a breath and lets it out with her eyes closed, "Oh, I've no interest in ransoms anyway."     Leaning forward at the waist, the witch opens her eyes again, "I've met your King. I've got a strong hunch that he is not terribly merciful on those who have failed him like this." The strain leaves her face when she straightens up, "I'd rather offer asylum and protection in exchange for information. Safety, versus what I strongly suspect to be an execution were we to send you home."     "I may be a witch who meddles with the dead," Trudy states plainly, "But I have no pleasure in sending people needlessly to their deaths."     "Think about it, hmm?"
Marigold	"Come on, come on...!"      Hector, who has breathed out his life's last breath, inhales it with a deeply ungraceful cough. A total dead silence falls over the room as a pall: the Bernish soldiers in abrupt terror, and the Lycians in total consternation.      "What?" he says dully, feebly raising his hand just to see if he can.      "... Oh, you damnable fool."      The axe condemned him to die in battle, apparently. This can be read generously. Everyone erupts around him all at once. "Lord Hector-?!" "Oh, my goodness--" "Oh, I see. Then it's..." He just groans while weathering the mobbing hugs and tearful affection.      "I'll be an albatross around your neck now, you know. You've doomed yourselves to another defeat."
Shinmyoumaru Sukuna	Roy tries very hard to keep his face firm. So does Shinmyoumaru. Act like a samurai, she tells herself. You're not supposed to react to death! You're supposed to be strong and impassive and let it roll past you! But...she fails. Shinmyoumaru didn't even *know* Hector, but she's prone to high emotion, and - for all of her casual, offhanded acceptance of violence and the *theoretical* existence of death, even threatening people with it - she has more trouble handling it when it's right in front of her and happening to someone who doesn't really seem to deserve it. It's different when it's monsters, or youkai, who are close enough to monsters as makes no real difference to her. The gore of the dragon is gross, but a dead dragon doesn't get this reaction from Shinmyoumaru, even when Madeleine gets to cutting. It would even be different when it happens in the heat of battle; she wasn't at all concerned about mortal violence in a recent duel. "I can't...!" she responds to Odette, and her voice is half a wail. She does get enough control a moment later to throttle it down, though her eyes are still wet: "I don't know how to fix something like that..." She could wish for it, but even then, she doesn't know if she could bring back the dead. She kind of doubts it. Shinmyoumaru pulls herself a little bit away from the main group for a few moments, her usual high energy suppressed. She hunches down in her bowl, the lid she wears as a hat half-concealing her from view. This lasts, oh, about thirty seconds, when an eruption of cheer and affection starts up. Shinmyoumaru jerks bolt upright, her eyes wide. She doesn't even know what to say at this point, so she starts once, stops once, starts again: "If you could do it why did you ask ME?" she demands of Odette. Shinmyoumaru debates smacking her with the flat of her weapon, but doesn't; instead she raises her voice: "Welcome back!!" Because of course she does. At least she doesn't try to barge in closer. She'd be squashed.
Blemishine	What did you say your name was, knight?     Someday, someone like Lord Roy will be very fortunate to have you.     "Oh!" Tail and all, Blemishine practically jolts back to attention from her slightly solemn bearing at Marcus' question - and his praise. She seems surprised to hear it at first, only to break down into equally warm and somewhat embarrassed laughter after brief moment.     "Um... it's Maria! Maria Nearl! Thank you very much, sir! Hearing it from someone like you, eheh, it really means more than you can imagine!" Every word is brimming with sincerity, hands clasped at her waist tightly as if they wouldn't know what to do with themselves otherwise. "I hope you don't mind me saying so, but you actually remind me a lot of grandpa-- ...aha, my grandfather."     Despite correcting herself to be a little more formal, she still can't help but break into an amused 'hmm-hmm'-style giggle /immediately/ after. "He had that exact kind of wit, too! /And/ he was a super amazing knight~."     Her posture straightens and shifts after, eyes moving to take in what remains of Castle Araphen. "I still have a long way to go before those makings turn into reality. But..." And back to him, with a tilt of her head and a smile. "I think traveling with people like you and Lord Roy will help me get a little bit closer to what I'd like to be. I'm not going anywhere anytime soon, so you better not either, Sir Marcus!"
Odette Raskins	"I'll be an albatross around your neck now, you know. You've doomed yourselves to another defeat." "Th-then it's fine if I don't fight, right? I can't lose if I just run away!" Odette laughs nervously as she tries to find a way to weasel around... Is this another curse or something?! "Aaah... I-I'm just glad you're up now. We still gotta get some of that lost blood replaced, though, so..." The blood pack, IV, and roll of sticky gauze she tries to get attached to Hector's arm might be familiar to Lucius from their first meeting. She might end up gawking a bit too long when she sees the size of said arm up close, too. "If you could do it why did you ask ME?" "S-sorry! I thought... I mean, you've got the magic stuff, so... I panicked a little." Odette admits with an anxious little slump, eventually settling into a light chuckle to Shinmyoumaru. "But... Hey, it worked out! Now for everyone... Else." Odette straightens out her cap, then gets to work treating the rest of the group, and then the injured Bern soldiers. Someone has to do it, especially if she can't find any of Bern's own to do so!
Ru Li Cheng	Only once the dragon's remnants are fully gone does Ru Li manage to draw in a breath instead of expelling divine digestants. The last remnants of the purified aqua regia drip down his lips like blood. He coughs, once more, and closes his eyes as Hector dies.      Fate.      His hand presses against the wall. It presses hard. It presses hard enough that his palm begins to sink into the stone, leaving an imprint of his hand as though it was no more than sculpting-clay. His free hand comes around to smash the side of it, and the wall trembles under his force, cracking.      Fate.      Any other god would be more useful than him. Any other god would be able to do more for Hector. Bai Jia Ahan could have rewritten his fate, looked into the stars, wielded the patterns and the numbers to cut his death from the pattern with a miracle. He Li Hou could've scourged the armies from the sky and poured fire down upon them, cutting the need for stealth away completely and allowing them to reach Hector sooner. One of the Yu Yu gods could have slipped out of the shadows and dragged him away, one of the Pan Xun gods could've forced the body's machines back to action even-      Clear.      The sound of electricity, the taste of ionized air, the smell of a distant hope. It all comes together in Odette's hands at once as Hector sits up and begins speaking of an albatross around their necks. Ru Li's free hand slides down to flick away some tears he only just processed were his own. He takes a sharp breath and straightens.      He cannot be a Yu Yu god, a Pan Xun god, a He Hou god, or a Bai Ahan god. He is a Ru Cheng god. His miracle is simple, pointless, but he is still a god.      He turns and walks over to Hector. He crouches. "Your rest, however earned, is not your fate. Fate is written by the stars, but marching orders are written by men, and your lord has more for you yet. If you believe yourself to be a curse then you shall simply have to do twice as much to make up for it."      He folds his hand on his chest. God is a loaded word, Xion had said. "I am Ru Li Cheng, ninth of nine Ru Cheng gods. I know many things about many things, but what I know best is materiel, is resources - and a man of your caliber is too great a resource to lose at this critical junction."