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Lilian Rook     Lilian has a in mind in mind for divining answers to Gawain's current fixation. By simple walking, it's an all-afternoon affair, requiring a long, rough, yet not quite arduous hike through an overgrown countryside still frozen in the grip of winter. It starts at the middle of nowhere and seems to end up only at the edge of nowhere, through interminable tracts of dense forest with carpets of protruding roots hidden under a foot of snow, past frozen ponds with water flowers still preserved in glittering ice on top, and between crumbling slopes and scattered black boulders surrounding deep pits, with the distant sound of the sea pounding a cold shore always vaguely everpresent in the distance, never really getting closer or further.

    The final leg of the journey climbs up a steep rise to the top of a windy hill, overlooking a frozen crescent-shaped lake that cuts off the horizon ahead with its tributary in and out. Improbably tall stones are erected in a circle around the top, old and worn down, partially sunken into the earth, but underneath a sheen of ice, chiseled top to bottom with extremely fine lines, endlessly swirling and interlocking. These stones overlook their much larger twins in the water, obviously settled at the bottom, yet still protruding over the surface of the ice-locked lake, spaced every few hundred feet against the other side.

    In the middle of the assembly at the top of the hill is a circular section of ground where neither soil nor snow seems to stick, exposing a plateau of seemingly polished black granite. The colour of it is uneven, mottled faintly all over with various shades of thousands of ancient stains. The impressions of a very recent one are still around, highlighting the basis of a Solar Cross elaborately cut into the stone.

    Only in this limited space does the temperature climb a few degrees. The wind is as constant as the distant sea-sounds, but the snow has melted away for a short distance, allowing a tiny handful of flowers and ivy to grow up around the stones. The forests below are filled only with frozen thorns, deep shadows, and odd tricks of the light. Here, there's the unmistakable tingle of warm sunlight, weak and residual as it is.

    The view across the other side is strange.

    Lilian finishes guiding the knight to this particular spot without bothering to finish explaining it. The association should be extremely obvious. Straight away, she unhooks a bag she'd left around here a while ago, and has out a number of burnable sticks of compressed rare flowers and herbs, drawing tools, some kind of solar compass, and a book which she flips through a little. "Gawain, if you'd please, stand in the middle. Before all other things, when you go rushing off to look for Gringolet, regrettably the first thing we should determine is if it's still alive, and if so, if your connection still exists. There are plenty of versions of the story where that isn't the case." she says.

    "You should come up with a question now. Something specific --particular-- to ply the spirits with. An offering or ten wouldn't go amiss. If someone else feels like contributing, we can split the time. Take a moment to hammer down a concrete request."

    She's spent this entire time wearing an archaic black dress too light for the weather, exposing all those crazy black markings on her skin visible from that one shot to the radio, down to her fingertips and up to her cheeks and jaw, seemingly expanding from somewhere around the heart. This is so boring to her that she doesn't bother mentioning it. She has her sword propped up on a close rock and starts drawing on the granite.
Ishirou There is a bundle of military parka about the size of I4 walking its way towards the ritual area.  It takes a moment to pause now and again, seemingly taking time to examine everything.  Near I4 is a black box with arms, that floats behind him beeping every once in a while to indicate it's scanning before finally, he walks up to people.  

He does not even blink twice at Lillian's choice of attire, given who he works for.  He just assumes standard military attire is a black dress for reasons.  "Hmm...well, I do contain a not-insignificant amount of mana.  As well as versed in basic ritual knowledge.  Your world's stuff might differ from my own, so you'd have to point me along with the finer points."

An offering is asked for...

Earlier...

I4 stands in front of a vegetable stand.  "Huh...so carrots?" he asks his partner, to which the box chimes in with, -Culturally, it appears they like carrots, though it is not as healthy or a staple as other sources.  Apples are also known to work.-

"Huh...well it's an offering to a magic horse, it's likely the thought that counts."

Now.  

"POD, deploy offerings," He says, as the black box chimes in, -Deploying Carrot.- And a carrot appears and is placed down.  Another chime comes in, -Deploying Apple.- And an apple is placed down.
Shyra     It's a quest!

    Despite Shyra having her own pressing issues, the healer is happy to drop literally everything to run to help Lilian and Gawain. She travels across the land, gasping in awe as she looks at the beautiful, scenic terrain. The strange, somewhat mystic, Obviously Important lake gets particular attention, the Very Pink healer kneeling down on the rise as they ascend, looking over the place intently as her breathe huffs out in the chill air... That also is novel to her, the healer shivering in the cold but not complaining one bit.

    As Lilian prepares herself, Shyra stands by quietly, clutching her staff against her as she looks over the proceedings. Lilian herself gets a great deal of interest from Shyra, the healer looking over the fashionable and rich clothing (to her, she doesn't seem to know what archaic even means), and the strange markings which are clearly indications of incredible power.

    I've never seen anything like this... She comments offhandedly, perhaps not really realizing the situation. I4 deploys offerings, and she gasps. Should I have brought something!? She queries.
Gawain Gawain walks through the winter countryside in thick boots, wearing a thick winter coat over a long-sleeve button shirt, looking rather dashing. As he climbs up the steep hill, towards the polished black granite plateau, he ahhs at the ancient stains, and immediately feels the warm sunlight and makes out the solar cross. "Fasicnating! This place is attuned to the sun. I can feel the tingle of sunlight giving me strength."

As Lilian asks him to prepare questions, he does. He fills his minds with thoughts of the reddish-brown fae horse, of HIS Gringolet, and clear thoughts of wondering where the horse is. Is he alive, to be precise?

Gawain steps into the middle, anda comes up with his question. He asks the question rhetorically, unsure if the spirits can hear him - if they can, he's already prepared, but it's more of a test to see if the phrasing is correct.

"Oh great spirits, is the fae horse Gringolet, my greatest companion, still alive? What must I do to find him?"

A glance to Lilian, before turning back. This is hard to do on the spot. Gawain wasn't the fae negotiator - that would probably be Lancelot, who was raised by them.
Shyra Isn't that two questions?, the Holy Healer asides to I4. Is that going to be a problem?
Ishirou "It depends on how literal the spirits of the fae in this particular situation are.  As well as the ritual, temperament, a various amount of things that I can only say..."

"I have no idea," I4 admits. "Though I am now making sure to observe this for later review and addition to my data banks!"
Tamamo     Tamamo no Mae was, as the Paladins, generally, had been made aware, within the area. She had been in this area, very specifically, but has since spent much of her time either with Lilian or on the central grounds of Lilian's family estate. She is not showing off any hypothetical ability to withstand the Winter climate in either short or detached sleeves, but has instead come sensibly dressed in closely-tailored coat and long boots, all of the highest locally available quality. The ears and trio of bushy tails still mark her as a likely foreigner, along with other features. Her clasped hands make her seem not overly pleased with the cold, though that coat is likely quite warm.

    For this particular affair, assisting with the ritual was not Tamamo's primary reason for attending, but she finds categorical difficulty in remaining in the background of any locale that includes her. She's not glowing right now. Not a lot, anyway. But she still has something like the opposite of a Presence Concealment skill.

    "As distant as the Sun is during this time of year, this place is one of the few that could make such a connection," she says to Gawain, nodding pleasantly to his comment.

    "It may be helpful," she continues to Shyra, "though I might refrain, myself, from interfering. The local spirits might be offended by a foreign magic. Fae are often known to be proud and fickle." She doesn't say anything about which gods that might equally describe, if any. Referring to I4's produce, "Offerings of the land are usually safe."
Rean Schwarzer Rean shows up wearing a brown parka over his school uniform, and a red scarf. He didn't bring any offerings, but he's here for moral support. After all, he knew how strong someone's bond with a horse could be, so of course he'd help Gawain find his friend.

He's not sure about the spirits, since the closest thing he could think of was more like the fiends in the Old Schoolhouse, or the weird mystical feeling he got when in places with the higher elements being stronger than usual. There were legends about Fae where he came from, too, but the only concrete thing according to that book he read was that they all like to play tricks.

/Hopefully/ they were wrong. He's got a wary eye out, either way.
Tamamo     Tamamo was already standing near to Lilian, but moves a bit closer, while looking toward the center of the circle upon which Gawain stands. In a low tone, and entirely without relevance to the ritual, she half-whispers to Lilian, "I had suspected, but he is the very image of a legendary knight of the West, is he not?" Tamamo produces and unfolds a paper fan from what could only be up her coat sleeve, narrow as they are for such a feat. "My, but you have such handsome acquaintances."
Lilian Rook     "I'm going to be drawing up the summer spirits that are dormant during the winter." says Lilian. "They're less of a handful in their off-season, where their power and energy is diminished, and they're typically bored enough to feel more charitable." She adds. "Summer fruits aren't a bad idea for that reason. This is the old, *old* way of doing it, so it isn't super exact." That said, she's still flipping back and forth through that book quite a lot, referencing this and that very frequently, double and triple checking her passages and diagrams.

    After a little bit of that, she internally decides, 'This is going to take forever, and I'm going to be stuck crawling all over the ground with a bunch of chalk and incense while everyone plays word games.' She lets out a deeply resigned sigh, opens her mouth to say something, and then Tamamo sidles up and tells her how much she's 'miring Gawain over there. Lilian glances over to the big, built, blonde knight, all sparkling in the residual magical sunlight, fashionably dressed, here for his amazing gentle stallion. She surreptitiously glances back at Tamamo. She's frowning.

    Suddenly making up her mind on something all of a sudden, she snaps the book shut, she instead puts on her most authoritative air, and says "Alright, stand back. That means you too Gawain." before directing a bright --blinding, even-- flash of magic at the circle, and--

                -----[stop]-----
    Lilian sighs reluctantly, picking up the bag full of oldschool occultic crap, and gets to the long, tedious task of doing the multiple layers of sacred geometry and four point consecrations. It takes literally two painstaking hours. At least it's quiet.
                -----[start]-----

    --the light fades to reveal convolutions upon convolutions of old Celtic calligraphic from edge to edge, glowing on the stones and ornamented in sixth century writing. Even the rough, natural 'pillars' are covered in faintly luminous patterns. The expenditure of energy to activate this place must have been tremendous, given its size and complexity, and because Lilian looks kind of tired, and sits herself right back down, making a self-satisfied sounding 'phew'

    When Gawain steps forward and begins asking his questions, the reaction is quite obvious. The dull glow of the sun setting over the horizon warms up from a haze of orange to a thin band of gold. The temperature climbs all the way to just barely over the negatives, and the small flowers around the circle begin to re-bloom. Particles of light like drifting pollen rise up from the tiny bed of green grass and climbing ivy. The sound of the waves is somehow, distantly, a little louder. Someone laughs, from some indeterminate middle distance in the trees. There's a wet crunch when nobody is looking, and a big piece of the offered apple is missing.
Lilian Rook     The lines glitter and pulse inwards around where Gawain is stood. The energy of the land palpably swells underfoot, like the pulse of a sleeping person gradually accelerated with physical activity. Carried on the breeze, are the scattered words along the lines of 'Your horse, your horse, that kingdom for your horse.' followed by vaguely childish tittering at the joke. 'If you'd like to know, then-'

    The surreal voice cuts off with 'I'm sorry. They're here.' and abruptly goes dead silent.

    All at once, the glowing circles go dim, the flowers snap shut as if frightened, the temperature plummets to even colder than it was before, and the magnified glow of the sunset is snuffed out like a candle. The sunset itself, in fact, is gone. Night has fallen an hour early. The little ritual flames go with it, leaving only settling plumes of incense smoke. Frost claims the implements, freezing the sticks into their sockets.

    At three evenly spaced intervals around the circle, surrounding the party as a whole, the spirits appear; but not the spirits anyone asked for. There are three identical tall women, with skin white like snow such that the nose and mouth are invisible on their faces, eyes black as coals that are slightly too large for their faces, pointed ears, and long, untamed hair that glitters translucently in the frigid breeze. Their black dresses are essentially identical to Lilians, whipping in the wind.

    They are silent. Each of them bears a sword on her back. Each sword is black and easily six feet long. Only the finish of the blades differs. One is patterned like ripples on a black pond. Another is patterned like the dappled shadow on a dark forest floor. One is striped like the rough sides of wind-worn cliff stones.

    No questions, until the house of Aodhan stands and delivers. None of them had opened her mouth. The words aren't spoken directly. They're understood in the cold and the rocks and the sound of wind and waves. No answers, until the winter leaves.

    No futures in the presence of the Dubh-Ceothan Marfach.
Ishirou There was an unnoticeable flash of time stopping and restarting.  Then the ritual was set up without any input on their end.  I4 blinks at this for a moment, "POD, scan," he commands, starting to keep a scan going for anything out of the ordinary.  

Specifically, anything that would detect the fae before they would appear.  As the summer started to spring around them, I4 started to unzip the front of the jacket.  Well, this was a nice change.  The apple was eaten, though wasn't that a fall fruit?

The cold came back in force at the words they're here.  The jacket comes back up zipped tightly as he looks around.  The three women appear, not so much making demands...as they were commanding.  Frowning, I4 looks back towards Lillian.  He turns his head back towards the three and then speaks.

"It's not for her those questions were asked, but rather for our friend Gawain, who seeks his horse los-" then in the middle of trying to sound like he was going to talk to them or negotiate, he sends a barrage of energy into the left-most sister, attempting to use the biohacking to attempt to instill a command: Restrain your closest sister.
Shyra     Shyra spends a few minutes watching Gawain as he poses and prepares himself. Aaaah.... He really does look like a shining Knight of the Sun... Her eyes are wide and almost literally sparkling as she watches Gawain with pure excitement... And nothing else, for people checking for the telltales signs of a girlish crush.

    Tamamo's presence draws Shyra's gaze as well once the initial sparkles of excitement begin to wane, and she instinctively bows to the divine spirit. Greetings, Tamamo! It's wonderful to see you! You look so wonderful and exotic! I'm sure everything will work out. I'm worried about messing things up myself...

    Lilian then does her dramatic setup of the ritual circle, and Shyra gasps again! Oh my! Such a powerful magic! She really is basically gawking like a country rube at this point, but at least she's being honest about it.

But then Night comes. Shyra emits a noise of surprise and instinctively leaps behind the nearest hero-shaped person in the area. That means you, Rean. She peeks out from behind him, staring at the powerful spirit entities. Lilian explains what's going on, and the shivering Holy Healer firms up her stance, her hands tight on her silver cross-topped staff. Whatever happens... You have my support. All of you. She nods, showing some measure of actual determination now that she's able to fall into a familiar position of being party healer.
Tamamo     Tamamo may have guessed what Lilian is up to. She's certainly not blind, even if Gawain is currently distracting her with those dashing good looks. She doesn't comment on it any more than to nod in recognition of Lilian's obviously tiring efforts. To Shyra, she turns and smiles, "Ah, Shyra, the Holy Healer. It is a pleasure to see you in person. I would not worry overmuch in this affair, though as to how forthcoming the spirits will be..." She trails off, and there's no chance to finish the thought, as Night descends, and that pleasant countenance of hers instantly changes.

    The mirror that Tamamo no Mae bears, that had been just out of sight until it came to be floating beside her, is not the same as the Imperial treasure, the Yata no Kagami. Not in the literal sense. It is an artifact that is almost a part of her self, and she wields it like an extension of her own body. With a flinging motion of her arm, it flies up into the night sky, the reflective surface facing down.

    "You would dare," she addresses the fae, "disrupt the cycle? You would dare hide the light of the Sun? In my presence, no less." It doesn't matter that they're creatures of the Night. It doesn't matter that they have a pact to challenge the house of Aodhan. It doesn't matter whether they consider this an interruption of Lilian's trial. To offend a god is to invite retribution, and only divine authority can define offense. That is the simple law by which one must abide when dealing with gods, no matter how unfair it is.

    "Be stymied, halted, and denied! Be brought low, tremble, and cower! Be blinded, burned, and forever cursed!" With each of those three-by-three pronouncements, Tamamo's nature becomes more apparent, her fur brightly glowing by the end. Snow melts around her, a warm breeze blows in her immediate space, and light shines. The mirror angles, catching her form below, shining onto Gawain. Should he look up, however, he won't see a reflected fox at all, but a formless, burning light, inherently and obviously True Sunlight surrounding him, and spreading away from him in all directions.
Gawain As Lilian asks Gawain to stand back, he obliges, and then smiles in surprise as she actually skips two hours somehow in a way he can't tell she was just sitting there doing the work. "That's amazing!"

As the spirits start to scatter words on the breeze, and then go dead silent, Gawain frowns. He feels the air, the flowers snap, the circles die, everything go cold, and it's already night. This isn't good - without the sun, he's weaker than he should be.

But Tamamo saves the day in that regard. The knight's armor is already forming around his body, as his sword appears in his hand, the blessed fae blade shining off of the sunlight that the fox created.

"Thank you, blessed lady." Gawain says smiling in her direction, and then firms up his face and expression, pointing the blade at the ladies. If he had to pick one to focus on, it'd be the one with the finish like dappled shadow. The light beats the dark, after all.

"I am Sir Gawain, Knight of the Sun, Warden of the Paladins. Cease your aggravations, or I will be forced to defend my allies."

Yeah, Gawain might not trust fae. He's Welsh, it's fine.
Rean Schwarzer Rean blinks, when the ritual is suddenly done. Oh right, Lilian had some time control thing going on.  ^

But it doesn't last. /Something/ scares the spirits away, and Rean instinctively settles into a fighting stance, one hand on his sword's hilt and ready to draw.

By the looks of it, these women were part of Lilian's 'trial' and wouldn't leave until she was done. "Can we help you finish it, or is this something you have to do yourself?" Rean asks.

Everyone else gears up, with Gawain being empowered by Tamamo's literally the sun-ness.
Rean glances behind him at Shyra, and then nods. nods. "Right. We're already here, so we may as well help." He says, not leaving his stance.
Lilian Rook     Lilian only barely needs to explain when asked. She'd given most of the details before. It doesn't take long to finish. That's a good thing, because right now she's tired, nervous, and frustrated.

    She snatches up her sword without thinking, standing up off the rock and tossing away the scabbard in an instant, making a sound like glass cutting glass. "I underestimated how tenacious you'd be, you absoluted bastards." she laughs, less than confidently. "Normally it'd be one at a time, one day apart at the least, so with less than three years until the new year, I thought you'd have given up. Even then, bringing a retinue means all three can appear at the same time, but you didn't show up when it was just myself and Tamamo."

    "You waited all this time, right? For that opening. You *knew* what I'd do, and you were waiting all the way up until the eleventh hour, just hoping for an opportunity. Were you that scared of me~?" Despite her best efforts, though, Lilian can't seem to summon up the full weight of condescending bravado she'd like. Even in the face of the much more intractable abhorrences of the Antegent.

    The creature that is both the knight and not
    Never met in life, yet never here in death
    Knows with what he deals

    The creature of the sun
    So eager to repeat tragedy
    Belongs no more this time again

    The creature aberrant and unwanted
    Follows in the shadows of others
    To places she shouldn't go

    The creature of unrequited iron
    Ill-content in its false life
    Still years to be the tool of another.

    The creature young of dark seeds
    Germinates them within him
    And has no place amongst the courts of summer.

    The three begin walking forward; inward, towards the group, closing their circle. The one against the frozen lake walks with the sound of whispering leaves and creaking branches. The one against the forest walks with the sound of rolling gravel and scraping stone. The one against the rocks walks with the sound of shallow water and shifting sand.

    The sister against the rocks bears a blade dappled like shadow. The sister against the the lake bears a blade striped like stone. The sister against the woods bears a blade rippled like water.

    When they close together, forming a triangle that blocks off the way down the hill, each of them reaches out her right hand, with identical motions of identical timing. The forest sister's sword is grasped by the lake sister. The lake sister's sword is grasped by the stone sister. The stone sister's sword is grasped by the forest sister.

    They draw in unison. Six foot blades held like twigs.
Lilian Rook     I4 takes right off and tries to blast one with a brain hacking beam. The energy pierces right through her head, and zips off to the horizon. Her pure white visage wavers briefly like smoke. As excellent a way as it would have been to immediately trivialize the obstacle, trying to biohack an ethereal spirit of the land doesn't seem like it'll work out. Instead, the energy flies out over the lake and its boundary stones --and splatters against an invisible screen. Glassy cracks form, thin and intricate, in the air, and a faint red light shines through.

    That's enough of an indication for them to attack. When Tamamo castigates them and brings out the True Sun on their turf, all three rush forward at once, specifically aiming for her first. The three blades form a perfectly coordinated circle, high low and middle, left right and center, swift heavy and balanced strikes. It is effectively a certain kill maneuver. Unblockable and inescapable. It happens in little but an instant.

    Lilian is in the way, and parries two swords with her own. The air vibrates against her skin as she absorbs the shock, but then she staggers very slightly on her feet, wiping a thin trickle of blood from her lip. "You're lucky you're as valuable as you are." she coughs. "Otherwise I'd change your seals to a pile of animal bones at the bottom of the lake for that."

    Someone else will need to handle the third somehow, unless Tamamo takes care of it herself. It seems past this point, there's no chance of diplomacy working.
Gawain The three ladies walk forward, scatching words about the group spilling out. Gawain grimaces, but he holds his guard, though they grab each other's swords, which Gawain wasn't expecting. And then, I4 blasts at them. Gawain frowns sharply.

"Please don't attack people mid-sentence!" Gawain shouts out, as the three swords come down for Tamamo. Two ar parried by Lilian, leaving one for Gawain. His sword moves up to parry...

The sheer shock ricochets against his armor, pushing him back. It would break his arm if he was a normal human, but with the sheer sunlight, he's practically fine. He's resisting it, even if it hurts, and moving to quickly slash back, trying to force aggro on himself instead of the others.
Ishirou "Wait what?" I4 says, in response to his magic blast going through magic spirit.  -You appear to have missed.-

"Thanks, POD, that's very helpful right now!"I4 grouses about his biggest skill being completely useless, and right now apparently they can just phase through magic.  Which means that they can phase through blades as well?  Well probably?

Then Gawain, "Really?  Right now?  We're about to be fighting for our lives, and you're getting on my case about my choice of attack?" I4 grouses again, starting to debate his choices.  Focus, I4, he thinks to himself, looking around to see that strikes are going for Tamamo.  This combined with the vaguebook responses from the three pretty much has ruined his day completely.  

Wait, they have to be physical to strike.  Using the moment in which they clash with both Gawain and Lillian, he attempts another hack, this time sending a larger ball to split across each one, attempting to do one thing and one thing only.  Attempt to debilitate their ability to fade away.
Tamamo     "And well should that anger them," Tamamo mutters, "these--sir Gawain, if you please!" Her epithet is cut off, and her voice rises, seeing the blows coming her way. Practically unavoidable, and if she brought down her mirror to deal with them, she'd be unable to maintain the light in the same manner. It is no small matter, to turn a mystically significant night into a true day. There is a warring contradiction between her own nature and that of these fae, and the foreign styling of Tamamo no Mae as an incarnation of the Sun works against her. Better to leave this to those familiar with with the Isles, and who belong to it--Lilian and Gawain both, who come to her defense.

    As grateful as she is, Tamamo spares no time for words of thanks, this time. The words of the three instead bear against her, forcing a response. "Speak not of proper time, you who profane the daylight." The anger of a god is, perhaps, righteous anger by definition. Surety of self allows at least the illusion of the authority to define that which is good, and Tamamo would freely admit to there being both gods and demigods with an abundance of self-assuredness. Hers allows her to stand without hint of fear, though swords clash all around her.

    "As Summer surely follows Spring, no tragedy will stay me. You have no power in my presence." That may not, strictly speaking, be true, but to say it is to seek to make it true. And as she says, the light intensifies. Snow and darkness further retreat, all the more strongly for Gawain being so close by Tamamo's side, the light keeping him illuminated, scarcely shadowed, as if that mirror could substitute for the whole of the sky. It's not so visually dramatic an effect as the first, but the aim is shifted. With the three creatures of the night brought closely together, fighting directly against those of the Sun, it's the perfect time to let them feel the full force of that aggressive, angry daylight, directly assaulting their very nature, threatening to unmake them, to rob them of what makes them what they are. Too long under that light that warms the ground and encourages flowers to bloom again, grains to grow and trees to bear fruit, and there would be nothing left of such a Winter spirit but a strange, old, powerless woman of unpleasant demeanor, if it left anything more than ashes.
Rean Schwarzer Rean grunts, scowling at the three calling them all 'creatures.' Even if he'd never really been kind to himself over they topic they chose to shoot at him with, the others didn't deserve that.

"Nice work, you two!" Rean shouts to Tamamo and Gawain.

He rushes forward, unsheathing his sword in a swift strike aimed at the forest sister. He then ignites his sword, aiming a another slash at the same sister, trying to join in in banishing the frost.
Shyra     The spirits answer... And Shyra, though perhaps not the most clever of people, can tell one of those stanzas are meant to be a retort against her. W... What!? She says. You can't just... say things like that! She says, her hands trembling a little as she tries to figure out what to do about this... But all three of them set for battle. All three of them are prepared... And they strike immediately. Evil spirits... You won't succeed! At least, that's how she's interpreting the problem.

    The most immediate problem at this point is Lilian herself. She is naturally the main target... And they force her into an unpleasant position with her defense of Tamamo... But not as unpleasant as it might be otherwise with a healer on tap. REGEN She declares, and waves of green sparkles roll over Lilian, providing a potent reinvigorating force.
Lilian Rook     The first assault of the Three Sisters is just barely repulsed by the joint efforts of the dual Knights. Under the blessings of the sun, Gawain's strength is multiplied threefold, as is the prerogative of the Numeral of the Saint, and so he is able to absorb the blow. Since it is his own ability that is strengthening him, he is able to get a feel and measure of the general character of the Sister's swordsmanship from the first exchange.

    The Fair Folk aren't typically known as creatures of violence or prowess in folklore and myth. As queer existences of esoteric laws and fabled oddities, their shapes and roles are always arbitrary and strange, but usually for inscrutable tangles of tricks and magic. This is different. From the sheer, unbending savagery of the first blow he soaks up, far out of the class of even most mythical warriors, he can tell right away that the entire 'story concept' of these fae, as the fae are wont to base themselves upon, *is* 'sword'. It is guardianship. It is death. It is the inviolate frozen world where nothing stirs. These aren't spirits that picked up swords, but spirits *of* the sword. Three swords as one.

    Being that they are creatures elementally of long nights and deep cold however, the halo of true sunlight redirected outwards from Tamamo has the immediate effect of driving them well back from a followup. Their white forms flicker and steam, melting and dripping like ice, until they fly soundlessly out of the focused illumination and reconstitute themselves. Where the snow crumbles away and spring blossoms carpet the ground early, the Three Sisters stay at its fringes.

    This lets Gawain and Rean charge right back in and start their counterattack. They have a band of space to work with, and put themselves between the two supports. Ordinary slashes and thrusts, however, even from a fire orbment and a holy sword, get them nowhere so far. The pale faeiries parry and deflect them with ease; their long black blades cheat the laws of physics, deciding that they've turned aside a blow before it's really happened. Each clash exudes deep, numbing cold.

    Now forced to go through the melee fighters, the Three form up on the Two, and while lightning flurries of effortless cuts and thrusts besiege their defenses, a third --always a third-- strikes from their flanks and rear. They're perfectly coordinated, each an extension of the Sister that first bore the sword she drew. They each move as if caught on sudden gasps of wind, silent, implacable; it's like trying to fight a nightmare, where you're too slow.

    Lilian at least recovers quickly when Shyra throws green healing sparkles on her. She wipes the blood from her face and resumes breathing properly. "Good to know . . . that works." she says. "But this is really bad. Do you know any offensive spells?" she asks, before she herself brings up a multi-layered sequence of gold and black magic circles, carefully interlocking them together.
Tamamo     "Enlarging the area of Summer seems of slow, little use. And without my mirror..." Tamamo's mirror remains far above her, granting her light to the area and, in particular, to Gawain. Being her melee weapon, running into sword range without it might be a foolish proposition, even if she would carry the light of the Sun with her.

    "...shall I grant a curse of flames? All the better should one carry it to meet them." More talismans, which have yet seen little use compared to her other talents despite their ubiquitous applications, appear in Tamamo's hands from wherever it is she hides them. The strips of paper show a remarkable level of artistry for what might end up being mere ammunition, but at least she's not, by any means, the worst offender in that particular respect within the Paladins.

    Looking at that uncanny cooperation between the fae, far beyond merely trained coordination, Tamamo hardly needs to consider a proposed tactic before imperiously responding, "I approve, Shyra."

    Rean makes the offer, and Tamamo tosses a handful of talismans his way, after a quick look between him, Lilian, and Gawain. They fly through the air without regard for the ordinary physics of falling paper, arriving at their destination as if pulled there, easy enough for him to grab. Using them is intuitive, almost automatic; once brought to bear against the enemy, whether wrapped on a swung sword, thrown or thrust by hand, they'll explode in an enormous, directed blast of approximately 'tank-busting' flame. The Curse of Fiery Heaven is a particularly appropriate one for a creature of frost and darkness, and each spell carries Tamamo's divine ire along with it.
Shyra     Shyra is immediately awed at the intense force being exhibited by the hostile fae. This is like nothing she's ever experienced before in her world, exhibiting powers she has never seen, tactics that she has never had to counter. Were she alone, she would be overwhelmed. She already looks completely confused, not really thinking to do anything but expend her power on healing magics on instinct in a near-panic.

    Lilian's question gets her to focus. I have some offensive magics, but they are not all that useful except against the undead... I can also use binding magics. Maybe I can help separate them?

    Tamamo seems to like the idea, so Shyra begins working on that. The coordination of the Three seem to be one of their most powerful assets. If they can be robbed of that... Shyra raises her staff, and calls out her magics. BIND

As the magic is enacted, gleaming halos of blue-white holy power manifes, creating potent restricting bands around whichever of the Three is attempting to wolfpack at that particular moment. They rotate for a moment before they immediately cinch tight, working to sap the energy from the Sister targeted to keep them from immediately breaking free.
Gawain Galatine alone doesn't work. That's bad, as the Three Sisters strike back. "They're- it's as if their entire concept is Sword! Be careful!"

Strikes and slashes cut into him, the sunlight keeping it from being devastating, but their sheer skill and brutality cuts into his armor, staggering him backwards and forcing him on a defensive with rapid parries and blocks to stay safe. Gawain realizes something instantly.

"Our goal is not to slay them! It's to drive them back! Keep that in mind! We will not win on our own!"

And then, Gawain twists his wrist. Galatine sets ablaze, holy sunfire burning through it, as he pulls back his blade over his head with two hands rapidly, super strength powering into the blow.

His goal is to try and stagger one of the three sisters, either breaking through her guard, or forcing her to parry enough she can't immediately combo back. It's also a test of the sunfire - does that help at all?
Rean Schwarzer The Sisters are more like permafrost, and the fire from his sword does nothing. Their cuts are just as cold, slashing from all directions. He winces, cuts bleeding.

Tamamo throws him a bunch of talismans, and he wraps one around the base of the blade, igniting it again with much brighter fire than before. He rushes in, trying to strike the nearest sister 3 times.
Lilian Rook     "You can't kill them." Lilian says to Gawain, matter-of-factly. "Not right here in the literal sense. 'Shouldn't' otherwise. The reason this spit of land is still green in the summer and white in the winter --it's due to them."

    Lilian explains while the circles rotate, clicking together into sub-designs of larger holes, rotating against each other, building up an oddly pitched whine. "You've seen the Exclusion Zone. This place would look just like that otherwise. The boundary markers are ours, as well as various other passive protections, but they don't handle everything. Even the Fair Folk have a vested interest in their lands not being destroyed, and so the old things that were once the reaper in the time before Holy Rome will defend it, even if by proxy they defend their old nemeses. Such is the bargain struck; no creature of faerie would consent to glorified slavery even under the name of mutual interest."

    The last circle clicks into place. The whole array is abominably complicated, more like staring into the heart of some fantastical piece of old-fashioned mechanical geometry rather than arcane designs. Lilian twists her wrist and extends two fingers, and forces back the encirclement a begrudging reach further by completely saturating the area with a crisscrossing wave of arcing and intersecting black and gold rays, magical projectiles woven so densely and gracefully through each other that the air itself is almost more a mesh of attack magic than spare space. It neatly avoids Gawain and Rean, but moreso than that, when the broad detonation of searing magic rises up and blots out the view of the lake, it begs the question of why she's so haggard if she has this much mana to spare.

    Even then, it only forces the winter sword sisters back, carried by the edge of the blast before the substance of it reaches them, but, like the creeping artillery screens of old wars, it finally gives Gawain and Rean an opening to rush forward and take ground, and gives them a momentary reprieve from being circularly backstabbed to apply Tamamo's talismans and call up Galatine's inner powers to the fore.

    The two blades enhanced as much puts the swordsmen on more even ground. The blazing sunfire of both weapons forces the dark Sisters to forcefully parry them at arm's length, deflecting their blades hard and far away, lest the heat and light grow too close to them and erode their wintery substance. The flickering black arcs of the thrice thematic swords of shadow are diminished by close proximity to their opposites, reducing the staggering speed and strength that Gawain and Rean are hit with. The barrage of blows is no longer capable of juggling them in the air like ragdolls when parried, but still a daunting onslaught. Strikes from the pair that come close to their targets, even stopped just short by unreal blades, thaw and strip away bits of their essence.
Lilian Rook     Shyra manages to lock down the Sister of Onyx Shores as she circles around to run Gawain through the spine, briefly freeing up the two to focus on their respective Sisters of Raven Stones and Sable Woods. Even the magical binds themselves begin to freeze however. Especially on their home ground, the spirits are entities purely wrought of extremely powerful and ancient magic. Shyra's spell won't be able to hold them for long. The bands embrittle and pale, flaking away as slivers of snow. It all helps to slow them down and keep them at bay, but keeping this going until midnight seems like a direly losing proposition.

    Tamamo tells Lilian to stay by her side. They can't easily enter the circle of solar consecration until they've dealt with everyone else. It's the obvious, logical, safe play. Tamamo especially has sworn to protect Lilian specifically. Yet, even then, the prospect sits too ill at ease with her. Watching the rolling scene of sword-based rocket tag playing out, she practically vibrates with apprehension and frustration, until Shyra lands that binding. She only blurts out a semi-sincere "Sorry!", before rushing towards the bound Sister, now having wrenched her arm free of a shattered binding, and--

                -----[stop]-----
    Even with a little time to cool off, bought by the Gawain and Rean, and a short while to wind up, bought by Shyra and Tamamo, Lilian knows she can manage seconds at best. Gritting her teeth and holding her breath, ignoring the tearing feeling in her chest, she runs forward to the Sister of Shores and cuts swiftly high and through her wrist. The unearthly winter flesh corrodes instantly under the edge of Night Mist, severing her hand cleanly. Lilian doesn't have the strength to pick up her sword again, the point of which thuds heavily into the ground.
                -----[start]-----

    --the Faerie's sword spirals free through the air, landing embedded in the ground, a pale white hand still briefly attached before it dissolves into diamond dust. The bound sister reels, snapping free of her remaining binds immediately, clutching at her blackened wrist stump, and painfully forcing a new hand to form out of the substance of the frozen air. Yet still she only hovers around the dappled blade. The Sister fighting Gawain suddenly tries to break off, heading for the sword.

    Lilian starts staggering back to Tamamo, bleeding again, worse than before.
Gawain Gawain isn't as injured, thanks to the sunlight and the aid of Lilian, as he nods to her explanation. But when Lilian cuts the hand off of their enemy, dropping her sword, Gawain's eyes widen. The sister fighting him disengages to grab it...

Gawain does something stupid.

Desummoning Galatine, he rushes towards the sword in the ground, and moves to try and use his strength to rip it out, and swing it at the sister coming for it. He doesn't know if it'll allow him to. It might reject him. But...he cannot let them have it. Three swords is stronger than two. Some may see this as dishonorable.

Gawain doesn't, not at this moment.
Rean Schwarzer The sisters' sword clangs against Rean's, pushing him deeper into the snow. He's forced to disengage for a second to maybe get another talisman on....and then Gawain does something interesting.

"I'll back you up, Gawain!" Rean shouts. He takes one of the talismans and throws it, aimed right at the sister going to get her sword from Gawain.
Shyra     Shyra is not expecting to really lock the Sisters down. She's purely operating in a holding action, working to slow them down and delay their actions to keep them from overwhelming the assembled Elites.

    She can't fail Lilian. Not after all of this! Lilian explains more of the circumstances and what the thought process of the fey are. If anything, it would fly right over her head. At the moment, instead, she focuses on trying to maintain the spell... And as it shatters, she stammers, trying to warn the others but... Everything will be okay! Just.. Just hold together!

    That sure is a whole lot of not useful information. What she doesn't expect is to see that hand fly off! AAAH! What happened!? Miss Rook, what's wrong?! She sees the way that Lilian is staggering. To see someone so powerful in this state... But Tamamo reassures her that she has Lilian covered.

    She nods to Tamamo. Right! She trusts in the divine being to have Lilian's best interests in mind and stick to the Plan. She seems to be a natural at following orders. Turning, she focuses on Rean and Gawain, spending more time to bolster the pair. Another wave of healing sparkles comes out, but more than that as well. STRENGTH she declares, weaving a potent bolstering magic around the pair. Light settles upon the swordsmen, and their muscles are invigorated, giving them even more physical might than they had before! Stacking buffs are a thing.
Tamamo     Tamamo agrees with Gawain's assessment, that all they need do is keep the fae from winning. As Lilian said, it's not even advisable to truly destroy them. They belong to the land, much as do the kami to whom Tamamo is accustomed, and are necessary for it. Their actions still irk her, but proper punishment is not her primary objective. She was summoned her for the purpose of defending Lilian Rook during her trial. Lacking any controlling mechanism, Tamamo chose for herself to carry out that role. She promised that it would be done. And then Lilian charged forth.

    There's no time to object. It's even an understandable reaction, to someone with the luxury of standing on the sidelines, looking in. Tamamo lacks this particular luxury, and calls out, "Lilian! Ah--ah..." Remembering the immediate options, knowing the price, she then half-turns, "Shyra! Attend the others; I will handle her." Rean has kept at least a couple of her talismans, but Gawain will be on his own and disadvantaged should the light fade. Whether the loss of one of the three sisters is enough to counteract that disadvantage, Tamamo isn't certain.

    And the light does fade; at least, that directed from the mirror floating high above down upon the Knight of the Sun and the Numeral soon fades away, as Tamamo raises her hand and calls the mirror move with her. She walks quickly forward, the field of Summer Day also moving with her, fighting against the boundaries of a Winter that had its own Sun stolen away. The initial, uncharacteristic panic has not entirely faded, but she is in control. She knows what must be done, and how to do it. There are other priorities, but others will handle them; this is hers. Perhaps it would have helped if she'd had a little more time to think.

    There is no rule that she must say its name, but there is always power in a Name. "The Eightfold Blessings of Amaterasu." Tamamo leaps straight up, grabbing her mirror without quite physically touching it, and bringing it down with her, driving it into the ground with its reflective surface up. Now it is both a mirror and a sunlit, heavenly lake--or it would be, if this were a complete ritual, and not a hurried one. No bounded field is formed, and the terrain is not transformed, but there is still that impression, gone after a blink, that here is a source of purifying water, and not at all an object of clear glass or polished silver. Tamamo treats it as one, taking the staggering Lilian's hands in hers and bringing them over the mirror's surface. That dual, mystical impression of it extends even to the sense of touch.

    Being brought near the surface is enough to trigger the blessings. Divine healing and energy flows outward, restoring Lilian much like the name of the artifact indicates, in a series of blessings, each of a different kind. The exact nature of each is as personal as a prayer; some crave chi, mana, strength, fortune, fortitude, clarity or will.
Lilian Rook     The Sister of the Raven Stones streaks towards the water-rippled sword, swifter and more frightening than a sudden avalanche. She is on a course to crash straight into Gawain --maybe even pass through him completely, given her insubstantial nature-- but Rean hits her at just the right time with a talisman blessed by Tamamo no Mae, buying him just enough time to snag the hilt of the thin blade blade on his own and swing it.

    The sword has no effect whatsoever on the faerie. It passes right through her. This isn't a thing of alignment or element, he can tell, but Faerie Law. Furthermore, though, the Sister of Stones doesn't even take the opening to skewer him. Instead, smoking from the talisman, her swordplay shifts, ever so slightly. One who isn't as deeply experienced as he in swordplay wouldn't be able to tell, but the Knight of the Sun can feel it; she's focusing all her efforts on aggressively disarming him. The Sister of Shores, despite it being her own sword, doesn't even try to get it back from him. She flits around outside of arm's reach in almost nervous agitation, circling around and around, as if expecting a pass. This also seems uncanny.

    Rean immediately pays for running interference, though. No sooner has he thrown the talisman than is the Sister of the Sable Woods on his back, thrusting her blade straight towards his back and through his heart, almost simultaneously with the wave of Shyra's healing magic, and shortly before the buffing magic. The STRENGTH flooding Gawain's limbs especially will help him keep a grip on the fey blade in his grasp, though he can feel its essence numbing his hand and putting frostbite on even his Heroic Spirit fingertips.

    Lilian, with assistance, makes it over to the mirror, and simply follows Tamamo's instructions without hesitation. Again, the mystery bleeding stops, though this time she has to spit red out onto the grass to clear it up. Her breathing returns to normal. Glinting threads of red light, barely there like spider silk or rivulets of rain, run along the black markings on her skin. She stands back up with a certain amount of restored physical strength, having to lean on Tamamo for a few moments before getting a handle of it all, still clutching her sword in a death grip.

    "Don't worry about it." she says to Shyra, though more in the tone of 'stop thinking about it. "Pay attention to them. There's something weird about this."
Gawain The sword doesn't hurt the Sister of the Raven Stones. Gawain's arms at struck at to disarm, but he barely holds on, despite the injury. He has one more strike in him with this sword before it gets removed from his hands.

Tamamo says to hit the sister Rean's fighting. But Gawain has his own interpretation: if this belongs to the disarmed sister, then she will not be protected by fae rules. The sword /is/ her. So, he takes the sword to move and plunge it into her. If it misses, or the Sister of Raven Stones strikes again...

He's in big trouble, and /definitely/ disarmed.
Shyra     Witnessing Rean's sword just pass through the fae, even enhanced with the power of the divine Tamamo, disturbs Shyra. What? That's not fair! Shyra exclaims. Even if it is fair by fae logic, Shyra isn't from that kind of environment. She's from before puzzle bosses.

    That said, she asks some questions and it looks like the others are figuring out a solution to the complicated and potent trio. Unfortunately, one of them is finding a solution to Rean's continued existence. Shyra sees the blade incoming, and with a cry, she yells, Rean! NO! A moment later, she deploys a barrier spell to guard Rean, a very basic arc of magical energy forming a convex barrier on Rean that will hopefully slow or blunt the assault enough for him to not get straight murdered.

    Despite clear concern on her face, she doesn't look back to Lilian at the moment. She and Tamamo say they have it covered, so she will continue to trust them that they do. All she can hope is that the others find a solution quickly. You can do it, Gawain! Take them out!
Lilian Rook     Gawain turns on the disarmed faerie and attacks her with her own sword.

    Just as he does, the Sister of Stones ceases trying to disarm him completely, and stops attacking. The Sister of Shores stands right in his way, openly anticipating the blow.

    She catches his hand at the last second, and transferred from his grip to hers, takes her sword again, and immediately counters with a vicious thrust through his chest.

    The whole maneuver is executed with such ease that it seems like she could have done it at any time, or the other Sister might have, and yet . . .

    Asides, Shyra's emergency barrier spares Rean from being skewered and rendered paralytic, but only just. The barrier explodes on contact, overloaded instantly by the sheer, unearthly force of the blow, but deflecting the sword to the side, under Rean's arm instead of straight between his vertebrae.
Gawain Gawain screws up. Big time. He made a guess based on the math, and it ends up with him taking the blade to the chest. The sword pierces his already-damaged armor, no longer guarded by the sun, and only narrowly misses his heart. He pulls himself out of the blade with his strength and endurance, and his own healing factor kicks in to stop him from dying, but...

Gawain staggers back, drawing Galatine and moving into a sheer defensive position. He's in /very/ bad shape. "Shyra! I...made a mistake." He's asking for her aid, as he looks up at the sky.

How long until they win? He can try and hold off until then. He refuses to die here. But he's no longer on the aggressive.

It's too dangerous.
Shyra     Lilian is almost at the end of her rope, making it dangerous for her to act because something, as far as she can tell, is feeding on Lilian's energy or something. But as Gawain begins to fall and Rean takes a painful wound, she gasps, pouring much of her energy into another powerful healing spell, doing what she can to keep them both from falling. Green waves of energy begin to close the deadly wounds, but Shyra wavers on her feet. She, too, can't keep this up forever.

But you know what's cheaper than high-powered party heals? The binding spell. When Tamamo offers her direction to Shyra, she nods. I'll... give it my all! Again, she casts that binding spell, this time targetting the Sister who skewered Gawain. The rings of light manifest one more, and she tries to buy the others that critical moment once again...
Tamamo     "They can be given the blades, but they cannot take the blades, and..." Tamamo considers, her mind working over what she sees, more clear now that she's not tending to the wounded, only to see Gawain join that number. "...that looked painful."

    She frowns. The easiest answer is clear, but it is only the easiest answer. It is not an /easy/ answer. "How vexing. Sir Gawain, would you consider going upon the offensive once more? If Shyra would kindly mend your wound before it turns fatal. Lilian, have you been yet restored? Rean? I will ask much of you, but you are knights, are you not? Three knights, for the three sisters. Rather, for their swords. Strike them from their hands. That is all. I will open the path, one at a time. Shyra, if you would bind another... but not at the expense of keeping our knights alive. Do you understand?" She does.

    Tamamo spoke her curses when the sisters appeared, and the words did not take hold then, but lingered in the air. These words she spoke, she draws on them again, holding her mirror high into the air (as always, without actually touching it), letting it shine in reflection of her curse. "Be forever cursed, burned, and blinded. Cower, tremble, and be brought low. Be denied, be halted, be stymied." Once again, she draws on the power of the Sun, but not to scatter the darkness. As a half dozen talismans burn to less than ash beneath the mirror's light, it instead shines like a floodlight upon one sister in particular. The Sister of Sable Woods, and the light carries the curse of Tamamo no Mae with it, blinding, halting, slowing, denying, constraining. There is little chance to escape this light, easily able to follow anywhere within this field that one may think to escape to, and that's only if one could resist the curses themselves.

    But that doesn't last long. Long enough for an opening, for someone to strike that particular fae, before Tamamo turns her light in turn, and her curses renewed, to the Sister of Raven Stones, and from there to the Sister of Onyx Shores, holding upon each long enough to create that opening, and only a little longer for her only vindictive satisfaction.
Gawain As Tamamo calls out, Gawain is healed by Shyra, giving her a thumbs up, and with his armor and Galatine, he charges for the Sister who just skewered him. He aims for disarming strikes, using the holy sunfire, to try and cut off her hands and make her drop her sword. The only problem is he's not much of a feint kind of guy, so his attacks are a little predictable...

But raw strength and skill is good. It's impressive!
Rean Schwarzer It worked, and Gawain gets the sword.

And for a second, Rean's guard is down, against an enemy that could one shot him. There's a sound of something exploding behind him, and he turns his head, catching the last glimmers of a fading barrier and the Forest Sister's sword just narrowly avoiding piercing his spine. Instead, the blade strikes right below his shoulder, and he falls to one knee, that strike compounded by all the damage he's taken so far.

"Ghhh..." Rean grunts. They were all flagging, weren't they? How long did they even have left?

Tamamo gives a suggestion, finally figuring out what the deal with the swords was, Shyra also heals him in the interim. "Thanks Shyra." Rean says, getting back on his feet.  He then nods at Tamamo. "Got it. Let's wrap this up so we can get back to what we came here for!"

And with that, Rean sheathes his sword, slapping another talisman on the hilt. He then rushes forwards, swiftly unsheathing it in a blaze of cursed fire, aimed straight for the Sister of Sable Woods' wrist to disarm her.
Lilian Rook     Tamamo clues into the odd behaviour surrounding the three Sisters and their uncannily mighty swords. Lilian replies in the affirmative. "I have . . . a little more in me. But I don't want to go more than one more time." and readies herself, waiting in stance for the opening that the fox spirit intends to provide.

    The combined curses and divine sunlight of Tamamo no Mae fall upon one of the fae sisters, who instantly begins wilting under the harsh gaze of the summer sun, struggling to escape in slow motion, weighed down with burning curses as her form steams and runs like wax. Rean rushes forward, and with one fiery arc, takes her leaf-dappled blade away.

    Shyra locks another set of magical bindings on the faerie swordswoman of winter facing Gawain. Healed up on the spot and full of bravado, he charges again on the foe that'd just nearly killed him, overpowering his restrained foe and cleanly cleaving her arm with the burning sunfire of Galatine, depriving her of her rippled blade once again.

    Lilian locks in on the third Sister, taking a deep breath and gathering a state of martial and mystical focus on the faerie of the Raven Stones. All else blacked out, she calls upon the abstract, nameless reserves she'd restored to some degree from the Blessings of Amaterasu, and becomes a streak of black and red light that draws a clean, straight line from where she just was and where she is now, intersecting the third sword before even the deadly spirit notices what's happened. The coarsely banded blade thumps into the ground as well. Lilian coughs, then stumbles, but draws herself upright again, pivoting from her stagger to face the foe again, blocking her off.

    All the Three Sisters have to do is pick up their swords again. But they don't. They can't. They hover at an impasse, staring frustrated --resentful-- at their own blades lying on the ground. They glance to the weapons of the Sisters next to them, and can do nothing about those either --since they can only carry, and not wield, those blades, they stand no chance of grabbing them and then handing them off all while being completely unable to defend themselves. That is the Law that grants them the unnatural prowess that they have; a Sister cannot draw her sword; a Sister must be willingly granted her sword by another. Gawain had made that mistake once, but that'd just helped slide the last piece of the puzzle in.

    With the three fey blades now useless to their owners, who are as useless as their weapons in turn, Lilian lets her guard down, and lets out an exhausted, triumphant laugh. "Hahaha! Haha . . . haaaa. So close! But not this time~ I applaud the effort, or at least that much guile and patience, but that's that. The way this all works --your terms-- they make perfect sense now. So, will you give up gracefully? By your own rules, 'my retainers' can still fight you. They'll certainly win, without your blades. It's only a few hours until midnight."

    The snow white and midnight black winter spirits remain for a minute longer, dead silent, pitch cold, like statues at the edge of the line. Finally, seeing no way to bend their ancient bargain any further to their advantage, their bloodlust disappears. A being partly made of rules and principles and laws must accept them. One at a time, they slowly bow, then turn, then walk into the distance, and disappear, melting away into the natural surroundings.
Shyra     Shyra looks on, shivering with the touch of Winter cold. With Tamamo's light directed on another for the sake of attack, the chill seeps into her bones... And her drained magical reserves don't help. The healer, however, observes the three blades be removed from their owners.

    When the deadly fae finally relent, however, Shyra sighs, and sags with relief. You did it! You're all so amazing! She proclaims, energetic enough in victory to relax and let the tension flow out. She will recover in time... And so will the others. No one seems to have a lethal wound as far as she can tell. Congratulations, Miss Rook! You succeeded in your trial! And Gawain can get the answers he needs for his quest!

    She seems very content at this. I'll bake some cakes to celebrate when we get back!