Scene #3525: Squirrel Mavericks

Owner	Pose
Geralt of Rivia	Velen was never the most prosperous place. What little wealth the peasants had managed to scrounge from the swampy ground came from backbreaking work and fending off monsters - human or otherwise. A few mines, some boat builders... Nothing of note. And when the Nilfgaardians rolled through in their black and gold livery... Well, it all got a lot worse. It's easy enough to find Geralt. The Witcher is on foot, moving off the road and through some light shrubbery. He moves as quietly as a cat and he's well armed, in armor of leather and chain, with a pair of blades across his back. In the afternoon sun, his pale skin and cat-like eyes make him stand out. "Got a contract on a bunch of Scoia'tael," Geralt says, once everyone has arrived. "Elven... Well, some call 'em bandits, others rebels. These ones have moved on from harassing military positions and stealin' supplies to robbing merchant caravans and killing people as they walk the roads. Not sure if we'll get a chance to talk 'em out of all of it." Geralt's boots squelch through the mud. It must have rained recently.
Hoshi Amakasu	It took Hoshi a few minutes to get herself into her kendo armor and grab her special hair tie, but once she was ready she headed towards her local warpgate with a good clip through the crisp night. She was actually in remarkably good spirits now, a girl with a plan and a means to get her own money-- This feeling deflated when she saw the state of where they were. The mud squishes around her shoes and nearly causes her to slip and slide a few times before she catches herself. "Jeez... So this is rural, huh?" Looking around, she noted the dreary state of the place with a worried frown before catching sight of a... white-haired man. Putting the odds of everything together, she stumbled towards him and made a quick bow from her waist. "Pardon me, would you happen to be Mr. Witcher?" The orders are pretty simple, but Hoshi raises her hand quickly once he's finished. "I don't know what a Scioa'tael is, sir. Are they monsters?" She leans a bit closely, coughing. "Also, uh. If I summon something to help me, nobody's going to freak out and try to burn me at the stake, right?"
The Kid	A kid shouldn't be involved in something like this, but this Kid rolls up like he was born for it. Also clad in leather armour with metal plating, he has a massive shield of wood and brass strapped to his arm, the image of a bull glowering out from it. A bow is loaded into a quiver of arrows across his back, alongside a massive hammer of wood and brass. In his other hand, he has his radio, and he's peering at it intently as he tracks Geralt. The man's white hair makes him stand out some - hair just like the Kid's - and he strides over, traipsing through the mud with the air of a man used to hard marches through the same. "Witcher?" he asks, rolling the foreign word around in his mouth. Listening to the explanation, he quickly gets the gist of it. "Criminals and murderers gotta be stopped. Right." A bottle is taken from his belt, the cork removed with his teeth and the contents downed. "Burn at the stake? Who would... eh. Foreign stuff. Don't sic it on me and we'll get along great," he deadpans at Hoshi before looking to Geralt. "Talking ain't my forte, so that's fine. Lead the way."
Kotone Yamakawa	Kotone Yamakawa heard the call and she owuldn't mind the money. She hears the read out and sighs nodding she wasn't thinking about such grim work but then again these guys are not doing good things either. It's a very murky world she's ended up in and she's just glaf she's got osme people who help keep her from going off the deep end. She smiles a little bit at Hoshi. "Hey, and I won't let them if they try Hoshi." She looks to Geralt and nods a bit. "Been a while sir." And The Kid gets a look over for a moment. "Heh we're all forigners here Kid."
Priscilla	And so a tall, pale-skinned, white-haired man with golden eyes and slitted pupils is met by a tall, pale-skinned, white-haired woman with golden eyes and slitted pupils. Well, one is more the colour of gold being melted in the heart of a furnace than what would normally come to mind. It'd be difficult to mistake her for a Witcher regardless however, with the twin rows of small, ivory horns sweeping over her brow, the fine silver scales visible around her collarbone, and the arctic-furred tail that swishes quietly behind her, to say nothing of the manner of her dress, instantly evoking royalty or divinity in all of its white and gold despite it being only a single layer that nobody worried about getting cold would wear outdoors. It makes the sight of her trekking through a swamp even more out of place, though she's ventured through worse, helped somewhat by the fact that her bare feet don't actually sink into the muck as it freezes over in the shadow of each footfall. The strange eye pendant cradled in black titanite wire hangs a little lower than the conceptual sunburst 'scar' carved into the scale a little higher than where her heart should be. Being honest, this kind of work /is/ a little beneath Priscilla, even if she's left the actual crown behind as she has been doing with field work. Especially since this has nothing to do with the Union. She looks and feels far-removed from her surroundings, and the supernatural cold that follows her speaks more to some sort of Fair Folk in a bad mood than an adventurer hunting for coin. What a coincidence that she is, in fact, secretly in a very bad mood. Some random mercenary job is probably a safer outlet than somewhere in Lordran. Her eyes glance briefly between The Kid, happy to see him wearing pants today, Kotone, Hoshi, and then to Geralt, the last of whom is unfamiliar, and thus gets an abrupt but swift-fading sensation of cold stabbing somewhere indescribably between his heart and his temple, purely imagined rather than physical. "I shalt be entirely honest." She begins in the archaic dialect of the old gods, as usual. "I wouldst be entirely happy were they to refuse to hear reason one way or another. I care little for the fine classification of thievery and murder this day."
Geralt of Rivia	"They're monsters," Geralt says, "But only ones that other people created." His glowing, unsettling eyes glance at Hoshi then. "They might if we were in a city - it won't be a problem." The Kid doesn't earn much concern from Geralt, beyond a strange wistful look, like Geralt is remembering something - or someone. He just nods, however, when the Kid says that they have to be stopped. It's a simple matter. Kotone gets a slight grunt from Geralt, "Mm. Been a while." He's still not one for conversation. Priscilla's arrival, however, draws a wary glance from the Witcher. The wolf's head medallion around his neck begins to vibrate with a steady rattle of metal against leather at her approach. The cold - that draws a frown. "Didn't think a sorceress would stoop to trudging through a swamp for a few squirrels," Geralt tells her, evidently putting his first glance together with what he knows of his world and getting... well, some level of summation. From there, they walk in silence. Geralt picks out some clues here and there, some of which need to be taken on faith more than anything else. Claims of smells, or tracks that others can't see - at least without incredible sense of their own - and so on. It's only a few minutes past that where Geralt suddenly holds up his hand for the little band to halt, and then reaches back to draw his sword. It's a good thing too, because arrows begin to rain down on the group from all around! Geralt's sword flashes in the afternoon light and arrows, broken and battered, go flying into the woods in all directions. That saves the Witcher, of course, but what of his companions? Seems like the Scoia'tael have found them.
Hoshi Amakasu	Hoshi offers bows and greetings to everyone that shows up--though the Kid and his bottle of who-knows-what get a raised brow and a bemused expression. "Ah... I'm Amakasu Hoshi, by the way. It's nice to meet you. Why would I attack you, anyway? We're on the same team." Kotone gets a grin and a wave. "I'd rather not have them try in the first place, really. It'd be silly." Hoshi takes a moment to try to give a smile to Priscilla... but the chill in the air and the chill of her gaze causes her to cough a bit and simply bow more respectfully. She'd like to actually say something, but now probably isn't the best time. As they walked, Hoshi stayed near the front with the Witcher, idly tossing her hair tie up and down in her hand. Glancing over at him, she shivers a bit when she catches sight of his eyes. The swampy air felt just a little colder. "Er... S-so, what's your name, Mr. Witcher? I'm not sure I ever--Whoa!" Suddenly, things were falling from the sky! Swatting arrows was all well and good but when Hoshi sees an arrow fly past her face she ducks down immediately and goes scurrying for the cover of a tree. "Jeez, at least give us a chance to talk a little bit!" Hoshi yells over her shoulder towards their opponents. With a bit of will, her hair tie extends into a katana that she draws immediately, along with pulling the locket out from under her gi. "Where are they coming from?"
The Kid	Looking around at the assembled, the Kid nods to Kotone. "Suppose we are," is all he says in an odd tone of voice. Like it's a new experience for him entirely, and he's unsure how to handle it. Priscilla draws a chortle from him. "Slumming it again I see," he remarks. Geralt's stare is met with a raised eyebrow and a 'what are you looking at?' kind of expression. To Hoshi, he only says, "First time I met foreigners, one of 'em threw a parting shot at me after playing nice." Shrug. The march begins, and the Kid goes through it without complaints. Boots fill with mud quickly due to the weight of all his gear but he doesn't complain. Tracking isn't his strong suit, so he just nods along as Geralt supposedly finds clues. He's had to work with Gravers, Slingers, and Brushers before, so it's not his first time following someone who finds things he can't see. But the whistle of arrows? That he knows. "Behind me!" he barks, raising his Bullhead Shield up against the hail. Arrows would likely plink right off the brass and toughened wood. With his free hand, he takes out the bow, waiting for a break...
Kotone Yamakawa	Kotone Yamakawa does not seem to mind tht Geralt isn't much for talk he's not been so but he was solid to work with the last time she did. She looks to Hoshi and seem ot be intent to fall in with her. "True, but let's deal with what's at hand." Priscilla was unexpected but welcome well. She seems amused at the kid until her mentions how his first contact wen. "I'm sorry it ended like that." Things get quiet. Kotone turns on her optic Cameo and moves as best she can. The swamp might make it easier to spot her but it will reduce her profile at the veyr least. She halts as he gives the waning and there's arrows raining from the heavens and she'll be uick tp dart behind the Kid and his Bullhead Shield.
Priscilla	"I am no sorceress, but believeth mineself whence I say that I saw not mineself wandering here either." Priscilla's tone is significantly less dismissive than could be anticipated; a little more good-natured than she really feels with a few familiar faces to make things a little more lively. Besides. It seems like she might like something she has seen of the Witcher thus far, though she's barely just met him. "Thou may referreth to mineself as Priscilla, Witcher. Any further titles art irrelevant for the time being." The pretty way of saying she isn't here to be queenly today, directed just a little bit towards Hoshi and The Kid. The crossbreed is a being of essentially infinite patience. Wandering through the wilds is hardly new or discomforting. For that reason, Priscilla is completely content to follow the Witcher's signs and insistences on good faith, likely only to question him should this go on for an excessively long time without progress, since here and there, her eyes do manage to pick up on a small handful of the visual cues he claims to see. It isn't her eyes or ears that alert her to what's going on when Geralt holds up the little convoy however, but the faint pulsing of sapient life standing out from the teeming flora of the swamp, and their resulting murderous intent. A while ago, Priscilla would have responded to this kind of attack by vanishing like Kotone chooses to and hurrying out of the killzone and straight behind enemy lines. Today however, she's here to work out some 'displeasure', and so making a spectacle of it works fine for her. Geralt's pendant will probably be going nuts when she draws Moonlight from somewhere off her person, illuminating the swamp with the embers of magic cast from it like a brand removed from the coals of a fire. She stabs the luminous blade point-down into the frozen ground around her feet, and the air splits with an eerily songlike chorus as it erupts into ghostly, blue-green soulfire, incinerating the arrows aimed at her in a conflagration of raw and unrefined magical power. "Thou art warned but once." She calls out into the trees, her voice surprisingly loud and authoritative. "Surrender thineselves at this very instant, or praying to thine gods shalt avail thee of nothing. Thou hast put thine very own souls at stake by making such a grievous error." She wrenches the sword from the ground, flourishing it once over the back of her hand. "If thou hast no attachment to the idea of life beyond death however, then I shalt gladly separate it from thee."
Geralt of Rivia	"It's Geralt!" Geralt snaps over the sound of flying arrows. The Witcher maneuvers himself to put a tree between his body and the hail of sharp objects. Similarly, the elven arrows plink off The Kid's shield. They're well aimed, that's for sure, but it's likely that they can't see Kotone hiding behind there. Priscilla's display sets Geralt's medallion /bouncing/ around his neck, and the Witcher actually reaches up to grip it in his gauntlet. It can be heard humming against his fingers. "Not a sorceress," he replies, sceptically. "Sure as hell remindin' me of one in particular." Still, it seems like the display had some effect. The arrows stop falling and everything goes still, if not for the sound of boots crunching twigs and leaves underfoot. Dark shapes resolve into men and women, approximately a dozen in all, all dressed in armor - leathers, fur, some chainmail, haphazard sections of dark plate taken from Nilfgaardian knights - and all sporting squirrel tails like badges of office. Swords and bows. A whole heap of warpaint over their faces. "We've already warned you," the Scoia'tael leader taunts, his face daubed up to look like the jaw of some great beast. "Neat trick, but I think we'll be stringing you and your friends up instead. Maybe seperate your heads as a message to the King and Emperor. The Witcher dog, too - that one should know better than taking scraps from the humans' table." Geralt leaps to the attack, blade in hand, and heading right for the leader! Jawface readies his axe, and meets his charge. Steel rings on steel. The Scoia'tael follow suite, blades up, although some stay back to loose arrows at the group.
Hoshi Amakasu	"Got it, thank you!" Hoshi calls out from behind her cover, grunting in some concern when she hears a couple arrows thunk on the opposite side of her tree. She can imagine them still quivering on the tree behind her head. Glancing around, she saw that all of her allies were able to keep safe--and that's when she caught sight of Priscilla's magic. Hoshi's eyes widen and her jaw drops at the display in front of her. For a moment, she's taken by the image. The aura of authority that Priscilla put out was amazing to behold. "Cool..." The thought snaps like a bubble when she hears the Scoia'tael approaching, and Hoshi's eyes narrow dangerously as she peeks around her tree. "You're a bunch of idiots if you think it'll be that simple!" She snaps open her locket, the air around her illuminated with blue mist as she calls out clearly, "Persona!" The crash of glass shattering fills the air. Behind the teenager, a huge woman takes shape out of the fog, a woman wearing a muddy wedding dress and a forest green cape that covered most of her face. A huge broadsword carried delicately in one hand flashes in the gloom. Hoshi points at the enemy archers; as soon as Rosamond is fully formed, she flies out immediately with incredible speed, daintily slipping by trees and through mud. Her serene mouth never even twitches as she tries to smash the flat of her blade against anyone near her.
Priscilla	The days where Priscilla was a reclusive, uncertain and conflict-averse wallflower are long past. A lot has happened since then. More than even most immortals experience in their lifetimes. She is no longer the type of person who receives disrespect lightly, and today especially, she is not the type to tolerate threats to her charges in the slightest. "Whatever warnings thou hast given art beyond mine concern. In fact, they ceased to matter the instant thou were so foolish as to raise thine arrows against mineself. I shalt taketh thine insolence as refusal to surrender, and thus shalt brook no pleas for mercy whence thou art made to regret it with all of thine being." Moonlight hums in her hands, its glow intensifying to a hard, pale inferno, snapped upright into the offensive stance common to the Knights of Gwyn. "I shalt not even beg the question of why thou dost hurry towards thine deaths." The Soul of Seath flashes forward in a luminous arc, the peal of ethereal bells filling the air as a a colossal flash of magic sends a road-wide blade of focused souls screaming through it, vindictively carving through anything in its path before detonating into a conflagration of ghostly fire. Priscilla explodes forward in its wake; a blur of Lordsoul-enhanced white, silver and gold, joining Geralt in battle in the space of a heartbeat. She's far more serious than she should be for what seems to be common forest bandits, her sword a ribbon of dancing light caught in a never-ending slicing arc, swerving from foe to foe with almost reckless fury as Priscilla dances between the Scoa'tael, striking with enough force to simply burn through a mundane blade unlucky enough to be used to parry.
Kotone Yamakawa	Kotone Yamakawa doesn't say much to the bandit leader. She didn't always get involved in things like this but with them killing just random travlers it had to stop. She does not say a hint what is there to say, she does focus on the fight. She'll attempt to ambush some of the banits making use of the rest of the party distracting them. She would then move to strike she's not even got much to say as she gets to work. She doesn't need to make use of her weapons she'll end up moving at high spedd, inhuman speed it would make her easier to see but can they draw and fire arrows fast enough to prevent all three hundred plus pounds of cyborg comming into them at over 40 Kilometers per hour?
The Kid	Once the plinking of arrows against the Bullhead Shield fades, the Kid lowers it and glowers around at the emerging figures. Priscilla's declaration and mystical assault is tuned out, Hoshi's Persona ignored as the red mist mingles with the drink he had before the march. No words are offered in response to the Scoia'tael threats, only a tighter grip on that Breaker's Bow. More arrows are loosed, but Kid is ready. The Menders were trained to make defence a powerful offence, slamming through attacks with their shields and even launching projectiles right back with them. Facing down an arrow aimed at him, the Kid swings that shield like it weighs nothing, probably breaking the shaft, but that's okay. As long as the point is sent spinning right back at the archer. He then goes into a roll, the shield expertly pulled in to not slow up. Coming up on a knee, he has an arrow drawn and knocked, the Breaker's Bow sloooowly pulled back as a shot is lined up. One of the approaching Scoia'tael in fur has a Kid aiming at his liver, the arrow whistling sharply as it is released. But Breakers were trained to make shots count, so he's not the Kid's real target. His goal is to shoot right through, to hit one of the archers behind him in the gut.
Geralt of Rivia	Battle is joined and, once again, the woods of Velen are filled with the sounds of battle. The Kid's arrow strikes true, and then strikes true again. One Elvish bandit feels the arrow punch through his liver, and he falls to one knee, and the archer behind takes the projectile right in the gut, blood bubbling from her lips. Arrows go wide around Kotone, disappearing into the brush. Her cybernetic body gives her the advantage against the relatively unarmored elves and, despite their rugged experience and honed-by-war training, they're just as easy to break as anyone else. It's hard to call what Priscilla's doing a battle. Battle implies a relatively even field of war, where combatants face each other with the strength of their martial prowess. Her blade of light parts flesh and armor with equal ease, and when it meets an iron blade, it sends molten metal spraying as cuts weapons in two. Some of the elves, those closest to Priscilla, the ones that manage to survive her wrath without being killed outright, evidently decide that running for it is better than sticking around to follow up on their leader's words. They begin to flee - will someone catch them? It seems like some of the other elven revolutionaries might be having that same thought, that discretion is the better part of valour, as Rosamund's blade descends upon them. A spirit, a ghost, a wraith of the woods! The Scoia'tael that escape her wrath try to scramble away from her. Taking on human soldiers is one thing - but a monster like that?! Geralt remains locked in battle with Jawface. The Witcher's style is rather acrobatic, turning his sword here and there in a dazzling display of flashy swordsmanship, keeping the bandit off-guard so he can't bring his heavy axe to bear. And then Geralt strikes out three times, impossibly fast. One, down to the knee, so the bandit drops down. Two, up and through the arm holding the axe. And three, straight across in a horizontal line, swinging for the hills. Jawface's head goes flying, much like the remnants of his band. Will they manage to escape into the woods, and surely cause trouble another day?
Priscilla	What's a little indiscretion when ridding the world of a pariah? Especially among friends. It's been a while since Priscilla's been this splattered with blood in such a short period of time, exercising neither efficiency nor restrain in the dervish of her sword, hacking off arms, hands, legs, heads, whatever comes within her reach as the Lady in White glides from foe to foe, long silver hair flowing behind her with her billowing clothes. Her blade lowers momentarily as Geralt eviscerates the band's leader in a flash of gleaming steel, Priscilla gazing upon his handiwork briefly before she hears the sloshing sounds of retreat. Her head whips around in an instant, her conquered eye flashing with a cruciform flicker of light and a thoroughly unpleasant screech of mental static, better reflecting her inner anger than her porcelain face. The fleeing elves are caught by invisible strings, broken free of the bonds of gravity, and sent hurtling straight back to her, fired like cannonballs out of the trees and angled to hit the mud straight at her feet. "Didst I not tell thee that I wouldst hold no mercy?" she intones, plunging her sword into the nearest mark. "If thou art willing to kill, thou shouldst be willing to die. I do not forgiveth those who wouldst assault mineself and mine allies." The departed souls of the dead and dying are flocking to her, swirling into her personal orbit as a faintly visible, colourless mist.
Hoshi Amakasu	Once the battle is clearing away from her area, Hoshi sprints out from her spot to help back up her Persona. As she runs, she spares a glance to everyone else, and sees that they... clearly weren't playing by the rules that she was. She'd made sure that anyone Rosamond had hit would (probably) not be fatal. She almost stumbles and falls as she watches with grim facination as these poor fools died incredibly quickly. What were their lives even worth now?... It takes effort to tear her gaze away from the slaughter and focus on keeping Rosamond formed. Within her mind, she saw the movements Rosamond would make. With a grim sigh, she was about to give the command--but instead they're all forced back towards Priscilla. Hoshi's arms drop to her sides and Rosamond begins to fade into mist. At this point, Hoshi realizes that the fate of these men had been decided from the moment they had passed words. It doesn't help very much. Knowing there's no point in trying to get any further, she watches with wide eyes for the butchering to begin. She sits down quietly next to one of the elves Rosamond had knocked senseless in the meantime.
The Kid	The clear sound of an arrow piercing flesh without grinding against bone to carry on into someone else... even the top Breakers would have nodded their approval. Kid barely takes note though, drawing another arrow to shoot at the backs of fleeing targets. Lemaign has clearly abandoned them, their morale shot. In their minds, they've already lost. Time to make it real. And then Priscilla's eye flashes, and a chill rushes up the Kid's spine, clearing that drunken, angry haze for a moment. Familiar... but the sight of bandits being yanked back brings it back, his current duty filling his mind. Bow is swapped for hammer, and one of those elves is greeted by a face full of wood and metal plating as that Cael Hammer is swung with enormous strength and skill. Another that managed to land feels a foot stomped into their guts, Kid raising his hammer high to line up a swing. Like driving in a flagstone, he swings straight down at the victim's head, mentally filling in their face with that Ura woman who stole the Sundown Path's Core. He keeps going, filling in the next Scoia'tael's face with whomever he imagines caused the Calamity. Again and again, the faces starting to blur, becoming those of ashen corpses. Kid just rages for a while.
Kotone Yamakawa	Kotone Yamakawa does not stop she's forced to shift how she's moving for hte moment but she's she's coming about at this point. She ses two of them are running at this point. She gets some intel might be worth about it. She's now looking to the ones who are fleeing she's going to go after them but she's seeingt it's about over at this point. She's just backing off she sees that Priscilla has this handled and she does not want to get near what ever it is Priscilla is doing and she fads back moving to Hoshi who seems to need support right now. She moves to decloak and set a hand on Hosshi while gurding her from any last ditch attempts on the bandits part. She knows words won't for Hoshi right but she can try to protect her from harm.
Geralt of Rivia	That screech of mental noise draws a flinch from Geralt. Priscilla's display probably would, too, but such displays of overwhelming power, dominion and majesty are something that Yennefer made him accustomed to, even if he's far from comfortable. He turns away, busying himself with pulling the telltale tails from the dead bandits. The Scoia'tael are soundly dealt with by this point, Their leader decapitated, the rest have been perforated by arrows, stabbed by a magical blade, or beaten by The Kid's hammer. Maybe some have survived, if they were knocked unconscious by Hoshi's apparation, or maybe if Geralt had a pang of conscience (Hah! A Witcher with a conscience?) But it's not likely. Or is it? The Kid's rage draws out an angry bark from the Witcher. "Hey! Enough. /Enough/. They're dead - let them at least rot in peace."
Hoshi Amakasu	Hoshi waits, and watches. Her sword returns to it's hair tie form, and she takes a firm grip on her gi as she makes herself watch it. All of it. Kotone's hand is acknowledged, at least, with a small nod, but aside from that she simply waits... and watches. When it was over, she stood up and looked down on the few she'd knocked out with a truly sorrowful expression. "Sorry. I couldn't find a better way this time," she tells the unconscious elf near her. She walks over to the group and makes a point of staring at the corpses around her before bowing stiffly to Geralt. "You're an honorable man. I apologize--there are some over there that I can't kill. I'll... take less of the payment." Turning to the others, she offers another deep, apologetic bow. Thankfully, the helmet she was wearing and the sweat that covered her face probably made a good cover for the tears running down her face.
Geralt of Rivia	"Don't need to kill 'em," Geralt replies, sheathing his blade over one shoulder. "They're payin' me - well, us - by the squirrel tail. Not the ear. Maybe they'll wake up, rethink their choices, hide out the war. More chance than a lot of us get."
The Kid	Geralt's yelling makes the Kid freeze up, hammer raised above his head. A drop of blood falls from it to run down his face, and he looks around at the massacre. He breaths in a few deep, shuddering breaths to calm himself, fishing out another bottle of... something to quickly down. Once it's empty, he flings it at a tree to fully calm himself, the glass shattering. "The tails, right?" Kneeling down over the bodies, he helps with retrieving them, before wiping the Cael Hammer off on the bandit's clothes. To each one, he quietly mutters, "May Mother take you gently." All the badges he has are offered to Geralt. "That was some fancy fightin' you did," is all he says to the Witcher, not even apologizing for how he acted. Glancing to Hoshi, he adds, "Give it to Priscilla, she did most of the heavy liftin'." He seems to want to say something else, but he busies himself with salvaging arrows first, both his own and those the dead were carrying. "You spoke of 'conviction' on the radio earlier," he finally says to Hoshi. "That's more'n just a word. The Crippled Duke reminds us that good intentions are nothin' on their own. You wanna make things better? Sometimes you gotta do some dirt."
Priscilla	Priscilla ceases when there are no more living elves in her immediate vicinity. Of course, she can sense that the ones by Hoshi are still alive, but that's something she's willing to conveniently feign ignorance on for the gilrl's sake, though the gesture goes to waste since she is so forthright as to announce the fact. Still, insult has been repaid with blood, and if Geralt, the informed native, is fine with letting a few of them live, then so be it. She's not about to push for finishing off the unconscious if there's no serious reason to. "Far be it. I hath no need of coin. I am here for mine own sake, and had never intended to split payment over something such as this. Whatever share thou hast assigned to mineself, gives it to one who wouldst dependeth upon the money for their livelihood." At hearing Hoshi over the radio, she produces her orange soapstone, crouching down slightly next to a fallen tree and writing onto its surface, leaving the elegant, burning runes scrawled into its bark for the bandits (or rebels) to read upon awakening. The script of Guidance is meant to be comprehensible to all intelligence, after all.
Hoshi Amakasu	Hoshi turns to Geralt and stares at him for a moment. They didn't have to die. Looking around, it wasn't much of a help, but... Quick as she can, Hoshi sprints over towards the two that had fallen. Willing her sword to return, she cuts off the badges where indicated and returns them to Geralt with yet another bow. The Kid gets a somewhat jerky nod, but she says quietly, "I have the power to fight," she says quietly. "So I do. I can kill monsters just fine. I'll probably have to kill someone at some point, for my own life." She shivers a bit. "But until then, my conviction tells me there's a better way." The kendo girl watches curiously as Priscilla goes to inscribe into the tree. She gives a grateful nod when she finishes. "... Thank you, Ms. Priscilla. Sorry if I ended up dissapointing you."