Scene #7246: The 44 Grave Blades of Sengo Muramasa

Owner	Pose
Lilian Rook	This sort of situation is unusual. To people outside of what used to be Japan, at least. Here, it's merely uncommon. A fair bit of explanation is in order, but only half of it is given; what is strictly on a need to know basis. The Oda and the Hojo involved here are two of the ten remaining clans that were destroyed or declined into irrelevancy after the Sengoku era and the ensuring unification of Japan, except didn't, and eventually became most of the sole remaining major power blocs in the country after adopting, calling in bloodline oaths, or assimilating those who lacked the power to stand on their own. Their respective demesnes are two of only eleven (twelve only counting Mt. Fuji as an entire whole) livable areas in the country. The clan's positions are important, and the station of their neo-daimyos is more significant than it ever has been in history. It's a big deal. Furthermore, the obsession with rare items and symbols of station that feudal lords have possessed for just about all of Japanese history is distinctively utilitarian here. Anything that aided in warfighting became something of utmost importance to locate and recover during the worst days of armageddon, and considered just about the peak amongst those are 'the forty-four grave blades'; a series of cursed swords said to be made by the famous swordsmith Sengo Muramasa after his own death, forged by his ghost after being unable to let go of his incomplete craft on earth. It's said that only his forty-fifth was the masterpiece he sought, and was able to then pass on. Unfortunately, the curse left on each of the swords before then, twisted in their own wild quirks and failures of pursuing the ultimate sword, unavoidably brings ruin to those who possess exactly four of the blades -- no more and no less. Though the clans will occasionally trade, or even loan, the swords in their possession, during times of crisis or when important matters require the unique ability of one of the known swords, their accumulation is considered a significant shift in power, and all clans almost exclusively have three or five, with a handful kept at the capital. That's why this handoff is simultaneously a big deal, and also lightly secured. An individual retainer is sent by both sides, with only a token personal guard. There is, after all, no reason to expect a double cross and theft by either side; seizing both swords would result in ruin to a household of three, after all. The Oda clan's representative arrives moderately armoured in a kind of composite modern tosei-gusoku, with no interest in anything else but a strangely classical daisho, and the Hojo clan's representative isn't much different, albeit with a different crest, helmet, and pronged spear, both looking largely to be symbolic of their station and affiliation as much as being practical should an outside party or sudden disaster become a thing. Both of them have a number of relatively generic troopers, dressed up a little with a flag between them and old-style trappings, and only one unarmed priest(?) of some variety with appropriate lacquer cases, covered in talismans and wrapped shut with rope.
Lilian Rook	The meeting spot is at the foot of Mt. Fuji. Neither of their territories would be appropriate, after all, and a third clan's territory would be intensely scrutinized for its suspiciousness. The capital would be a mess of all eight others' attentions, and out in no man's land is begging to have an incident with Anomaly or an Antegent (or several (or both)). It's not far up, only being a handful of miles beyond what is widely to be considered the primary barrier -- past where the terrain shrouded in opaque fog, or warped into crystalline metal, or pitch black at midday, ends -- where the mountain grass and shrubs can be expected to be green, the trees fruiting in summer, and the rocks can be relied upon to stand firm underfoot. It's a rather unassuming spot, too, almost randomly chosen to be in the middle of nowhere for the well-known security of being a needle in a haystack. A 'road' that is more an incidental use of a flat jut of rock eventually covered with soil and sand, wide enough to drive on and circling a mile section of a foothill section, with the beginnings of a forest directly above and below the shallow, if still unwise to traverse, grey cliffs that touch it, and divided in half by a steep freshwater creek of mountain runoff, still cold from its origins at dizzying height. Having Multiversals on deck is, ultimately, more of a business of relying on a generalized party that doesn't have centuries of built up stake in either side, nor intensely strong familial duties and loyalties. Even if they favour one or the other, there isn't much even a daimyo could do to directly command them, making them standing by a solid precaution to the information (which they haven't said how they gathered) that the handoff would be pursued. The nature of it is kept tightly under wraps as well. The names of the swords are kept secret. All that you know is that the Oda are swapping 'the sword that severs life' with the Hojo's 'sword that severs separations', considered something of a trade up, due to the latter's later number in the series. Both must obviously have plans for them. Though, it's pretty boring at the minute. It'll be a good way to get paid a lot in money and favours for a waste of half an hour, if it stays boring. Getting here hadn't taken too long, as the lower levels of the mountain are nominally accessible by short -- if very risky -- travel from a Warpgate that flirts with the barrier by now. It's mostly just a long list of recitations, ritual blessings, and formal declarations to go through; they're probably a holdover from a long time ago, but it may, in fact, be entirely necessary for two different priests to do a lot of blessings when exchanging cursed swords. Especially for being objects most commonly associated with the idea of a 'tool spirit'.
Arthur Lowell	>Arthur: Accept Swordguard quest from Oda Clan Arthur accepts the SWORDGUARD QUEST (Oda Side), since his alliance is tilted more in their direction. They seem like cool dudes, and what he's seen of their operations so far has given him reason to think well of them. He's currently relaxing and playing something or another on a DS. He isn't going to be spotting any ninjas anytime soon, so he doesn't bother to try, instead he drifts weightlessly among the branches of a nearby tree in the bordering forest. He has to admit, he's curious. Sword that severs separations? As a Mage of Space, he has some interest in that. But he doesn't expect them to get /used/, you know, or to get his hands on them or anything. Just happens to be a point of his own interest. What's that about?
Tamamo	Tamamo has several causes she could use to justify the trip here. She could wish to take any excuse to 'productively' visit her favored nation. She could be lending her own legitimacy to an act by 'overseeing' it with her presence. She could be intrigued by the notion of a mysterious assailant, and wish to see what plots and schemes transpire. As it happens, she's mostly interested in the curses upon the swords, themselves. The (supposed) smith was ever evasive, but unraveling this sort of mystical mystery is part and parcel to the faithful fox. She spends her time, therefore, examining the swords from a polite distance, as well as any blessings the priests might perform. If Lilian could make it here, then Tamamo will, naturally, be close by her side.
Ezra Mochizuki	Fourty-four graveblades. Oda and Hojo, two of the biggest clans in history, trading two of them off. There's no way anyone would steal these, right? A man in what appears to be a fighter pilot's g-suit, with a much more advanced and concealing helmet, perches against the cliffs high up above, prone against the rocks, blending in with the stone and darkness. He's got a pair of hunting binoculars, which he acquired from a high-end sporting good store. They're nothing special and aren't actual nightvision or anything, obscuring his vision from around him, but will let him keep an eye on the swords from a distance, even as they're traded out. His fingers twitch. How long is this going to take?
Rean Schwarzer	Rean stands under one of the nearby trees, possibly the one Arthur is in. His own tachi hangs at his waist, still in its sheath, and hopefully staying there for the duration of this. Obviously, he's got no idea who the Hojo and Oda clans are aside from being really old families in this region (and a relation to that Demon Archer from the Concord in the latter's case, he's not sure). But old as heck families aren't a new concept to him at all, and neither are old heirlooms. So he waits patiently, giving the ceremony the respect it deserves. Purifications and blessings are placed, and it feels like something that might happen in his world's version of the East. At least, based on his master's tales of his wanderings around the region. The names are suitably flowery too, even if they're not the actual names.
Ben d'Tarkanan	The clan representatives are not the only ones here with a cadre, though theirs are seemingly alive. His is not, though they are hidden from view. It's not for altruism that Lord Ben d'Tarkanan is providing security here, but the favor of the clans here today. As such, he has chosen a cadre of ghosts, which lie in wait invisibly. It's dishonest, yes, but... he doesn't know how their culture views necromancy, and plenty don't take kindly to it. It would be better, then, to conceal it until or unless he must use them. It doesn't occur to him that they might have ways of detecting the spirits. Ben himself is wearing a light leather jerkin, bracers and boots, with finely-spun clothing beneath it, suiting the climate of the mountain. He is, initially, sat atop a horse-white, naturally, because he really wants to push the 'good guy' image, and he's just a little tasteless with his wealth. Despite that, having coaxed an animal like that up the rocky roads (and past the treacherous Warpgate) does speak to at least some skill in riding. He dismounts as he approaches the meeting spot, gently guiding his horse to a patch of grass in the shade of a tree. With one hand on the grinning pommel of his sword, he silently commands the ghosts to sweep the area, passing invisibly through solid matter as they search for the presence of any other spirits. If he were going to attack, that's how he'd do it. Again--it doesn't occur to him that those priests might be able to somehow detect them. Something about the forests... the trees. His hands clench, his breathing shallow as he remembers his flight from that botched raid on the border. To others, it looks like he's just spacing out.
Xion	"Can I see it?" Xion asks, for what may be the dozenth time since accepting the quest to stop 'Ghost Warlords' from stealing the cool 'Vergil Sword' before they trade it for the cool 'Redgrave sword'. Real words, stated by a person. And then the boredom began. Fujisan was extremely cool for about five minutes, and then Xion had gotten out a paddleball and started messing with it. And continued messing with it, the entire time. Dokdokdokdokdokdokdokdokdokdokdokdokdokdokdokdokdokdokdokdokdokdokdokdokdokdok. "Can I see it?" She asks, stopping paddleballing for a second.
Roxas	Roxas plods on alongside Xion, his eyes unfocused and distant. Truth is, he's not altogether certain that he wraps his head around any of this. It's not that 'a trade' doesn't make sense to him. The ceremony around it, though, doesn't. This is because he has in fact Never Been To Japan, because Japan is a horrible place where he comes from. The entire axis upon which their society turns is unknown to him. And he doesn't have any memories of his prior 'self' to fill in the details, beside. "I kind of wish we'd brought a case I could lock it in. This sort of thing..." He rubs at the back of his head, uncomfortably. This feels like the sort of situation where /they'd/ filch something that somebody was being too casual with.
Lilian Rook	Identifying characteristics about the swords, even for Tamamo, being by far the most suited person here for doing so, is difficult. No doubt intentionally so. The talismans plastered over the cases at regular intervals are obviously of an evil-sealing nature. It seems very unlikely that the weapons themselves would be some kind of oozing nexus of immediately deadly curses, and she gets the idea that some amount of them have to simply be insurance (as several amongst them are for repelling from the outside, and a few mixed in are of a generic, but powerful, protective nature). Still, if the swords themselves aren't forged by the most famous swordsmith in history, it'd be a miracle that someone with the level of potency needed to craft what she can sense, could possibly remain a historical secret. They aren't such boorish things as to radiate magical energy for them. There is an exceedingly subtle sort of distortion palpable even through their protective cases. A sharp sense that the physical form of a blade and grip and tsuba are only the visible portion of what they 'are'. At the minimum, even a completely mundane idiot wouldn't mistake them for a simple magic sword. Both priests dealing with the situation are absolutely trained to sense (and then exorcise) ghosts as a core part of their job. They are, however, extremely busy in a number of formal rituals that cannot be abruptly halted, and that they cannot afford to be distracted from, and so they and the two retainers accomplish a respectable job of not flinching or deviating. Their troopers largely aren't sensitive enough to get more than a couple of chills and a 'look over the shoulder' feeling. The retainers do, however, during a short gap in their duties, both say "No." to Xion at accidentally the same time. Ezra is at the meeting point -- broadly rather than specifically -- required by his mysterious third party dealer through their understandable proxy. They absolutely want nothing known about them at all, since neither clan party would stop to believe in being double crossed, and instantly turn on whoever disrupted this kind of extremely rigidly held and fragile balance of power. He has to wait a little bit before he is joined by the team -- or rather, merely supplementary personnel -- that find him. A pair of men wearing thick purple robes and haori with broad sleeves, with rather burdensome triangular hats and formal masks, and with them, a quartet of unremarkable men wearing what amounts to plainclothes, not even in the sense of being bland streetwear haori, but straight up cosmopolitan 'jeans shoes and jackets' that'd fit anywhere, their only distinguishing characteristic being extremely closely shaved hair. One of them motions him to hold back right after they arrive. They specifically want him to wait until the ceremony is concluded. Now would be the perfect time to snatch them, while everyone is distracted, but then even they must be aware of some kind of repercussion for heisting the two blades mid-ritual transfer. This means that, though Ben's ghosts are detected early by the men in purple robes when they get close, who must also be fairly powerful priests, they can do nothing about them without giving themselves away early. Given the short time it'll take a ghost to come back to Ben, right at the end of the ritual, he'll have twenty seconds at most to act on the information, before both priests march forward at the same time, extending the cases in their arms, and Ezra is waved the 'go go go'.
Ben d'Tarkanan	Ben's ghosts glide as rapidly as they are able, returning to relay the information in a susurrus of ethereal whispers. "To arms! Bandits!" His shout comes at the same time as a spell. Extending his left arm, a ray of freezing cold blasts from his fingers, icing over a circle around both clans. They can move about freely within the circle, because they aren't the concern--it's the approach of those figures in purple. This is perfect--he'll be able to cement a position with these clans, having warned them. With his right hand, he draws his sword, twirling it in preparation for a fight. As the last of the ice patch is made, he points with his left, in the general direction of the would-be thieves. It's all he has time to do.
Ezra Mochizuki	Ezra sighs as the men tell him to wait. It'd be so easy to just...break the rules. But, he doesn't want an ancient samurai curse on him, moreso than he cares about pissing these people off. As they take out the ghost, Ezra sucks in a breath, not having been able to see it. And then, they wave him down. Ezra's gone before they even have started moving, a blur straight past them. Descending the cliff, the speedster in the suit goes down the long way, yet is still at the bottom first. He speeds up from a 'comfortable sprint' to 'high-operation', as his suit starts to heat up. The sand and dirt on the 'road' kick up from the sheer velocity, creating a brief thin cloud, as he moves for one of the cases - the one further from the Elites. But the ice patch is formed. He curses as soon as he spots it, and then wildly starts laughing. As the other thieves are likely slowed, he keeps moving, and steps onto the ice. For a second, he's almost thrown off, but he thinks about his pacing, and revs up. One foot, two, don't let it slow you. The sheer speed he reaches starts to melt the ice directly underfoot, creating light bits of steam that show his approach. Ezra bumrushes the case, left elbow moving to hit the holder in the throat, knock him back, and then a heavily-heated-up hand moving to snatch it from his wrist, trying to burn him badly enough to force a drop-and-grab. The sheer speed and heat, however, means that his location is clear from anyone who can sense heat - or vibrations, as they roll through the ground, causing light shockwaves.
Lilian Rook	'Bandits' is an old-fashioned word, but both sides obviously get the gist. The assembled troopers immediately raise their weapons and flick the safeties with a chorus of high-pitched whines and flickering holography, but they're eons slower than the two retainers drawing their weapons, only taking a moment to figure out where Ezra is by the dust cloud of his approach. The exorcist hit by Ezra is not a combatant, nor an Elite in any combat-related sense he goes outright spinning out of the way, crunching into the ground and sliding away, gripping his burnt wrist. It's only the fact that both of them are in the middle that Ezra is suddenly hindered, as the retainer with the daisho draws ridiculously fast in his face, a flash of metal arcing towards his neck at insane speed, and yet at the same time, a jumonji spear sweeps sidelong at his legs from underneath. The troopers haven't even had time to fire their guns. The rest of the squad are obviously slower than Ezra, but while he's distracting the warriors, the four guys in plainclothes leap the cliff and land all over the inside of the circle of ice, round kicking the other exorcist across the ring and grabbing his laquer case too, moving extremely quickly themselves. One snatches the sword while the others form a ring around him to cover him.
Arthur Lowell	>Arthur: Captchalogue Nintendo DS Arthur gets his game away fast into his Sylladex. He looks alert, jumping up at the sudden sound of shockwaves. What the fuck was that?! Is that someone booking it here at impossibly high speed? >Arthur: Locate Itchy and strife him to death Who's Itchy? >Arthur: Use gravity to limit the speedster and prevent escape "OH NO YOU DON'T!" He recognizes the immediate danger -- that the super-fast speedster who just showed up will grab one of those swords and get way, /way/ too much distance from them!! So he leaps out of the tree, arcing a bit, and does the only thing he can think to do: Slam into the ground and immediately kill gravity for a significant area around. This won't stop debris like rock chunks and such from being valid terrain for the conflict, but it /will/ hopefully keep a speedster from reaching top speed and escaping quickly by doing stable dashing! "Don't you bring that kinda MARATHON up in MY HOUSE, dawg! You CALM those LEGS, bitch, I'm 'boutta calm those KNEECAPS with the BIG SWINGS!" Oh fuck, /more/ dudes?! Arthur brings his broom back out of the ground and spins it expertly as he drifts into the air, dramatically. "Dunno WHO THE FUCK you all are, but you better STEP OFF and do it FAST! PUT THAT SHIT DOWN, HOMIE!"
Roxas	Oh! They /do/ have cases. Roxas isn't as fast as one of the thieves, but he's quick enough to be able to observe him-- and see what he's trying to do. Understanding immediately that, while he might be able to teleport to catch up with him at intervals, he's not likely to be able to /stop/ him outright... he turns his attention towards the other /group/ of thieves. His form dissolves into a spark of light, zipping through the air and bypassing the circle by simply not needing to physically interact with them to get through them. The fact that he is of astoundingly average height and relatively wiry helps him. He dives in with a quick one-handed swipe of his right hand, a white keyblade bursting into existence in it mid-swing. This attack is a distraction however. With his other hand, Roxas manifests a black keyblade, thrusting it in-- towards the box. The box is a container, able to be opened and closed. If the tip makes contact with the box, even a little, a ringing noise chimes into the surroundings as he gives it a tiny twist of his wrist and locks it.
Tamamo	A warning is shouted, a defensive preparation made, and Tamamo has only the time to reach into one sleeve before the bandit(?), quick as he is, has made it into the meeting place. 'Fools rush in,' it is said, but there are as many countermanding proverbs. More immediately, Tamamo possesses some doubt as to what she might have to slow such a person, whether his is courage or recklessness. Lightning, perhaps, but in that case, the issue is in the control of its aim. No, this might be an excellent time to use a far more serious weapon. Tamamo reaches out, looking somewhere into a vast distance, and finding something that, to her senses, has more stability than an augmented speedster dealing with ice and gravity magic. If someone could see her working as she sees it, they'd see her clutching, tangling, and covering in viscous grease the threads of Ezra's fate. It's a potent, short-lived, chaotic curse, the kind Murphy's Law strains to define, subtly pulling on neighboring strings--circumstance--to rewrite Ezra's local reality into one in which he can do no right. Of course, if he were properly cautious in the moment, there'd be far less that can go wrong.
Ben d'Tarkanan	Ben narrows his eyes as the ice is melted. Their opponent has hands on the case before they could even react--save the retainers. Switching to a two-handed grip, he charges Ezra's position, rallying his ghosts with a cry. Unveiled from the shadows, there appears around him a cadre of ghostly warriors. Light passes through their forms, their ghostly, ragged clothes seemingly unfettered by the air, blowing slowly in some otherworldly breeze. Their faces are gaunt, eyeless, toothless shades of what they were in life, their forms a study in shades of grey and gloomy blue. Each one bears a spectral sword, all seemingly sourced from the same off-world battleground. The yelling fellow from the radio might be able to handle this enemy. He doesn't truly care--all that matters are the swords. And right now, the other bandits--for that is the word he knows to call them by--are making off with one of them. They're the easier target. If nothing else, he might at least deny them both swords. Ben extends his left arm, reaching towards Ezra's fleeing backup. Hurled into their midst is a deadly disease known in some parts of the Multiverse as 'slimy doom.' The disease causes the sufferer great difficulty in breathing, until they eventually choke on their own mucus. Usually, that process takes longer, but this is a specialty of his. He worsens the disease, intending to cause the thieves to involuntarily drop the case, shortly after Roxas makes his attack.
Xion	\ I really want the sword. So does the guys with the sword. I'll ask them to let me see it. Seeing it is enough! They don't want to show it to you. Well, that's rude. Yep. Do you think they know about it? Xion reaches out her awareness towards the swords, trying to feel them with her heart, and not her eyes. Do the swords feel? Are they aware? Can they communicate? Blades are the weapon of a soul, many think. The desire builds, coming to a crescendo. Arthur Lowell shouts about kneecaps. Some weird guy is grabbing up the sword. Four ninjas are grabbing another sword? Ninjas? Ninjas... "GHOST WARLORD!" Xion shouts, lacking all realm of context for anyone else as she glitch-steps from her position into a mid-lunge, fingers reaching for the second lacquer case that the four 'bandits' spinkicked people for. In her fingers, with a 'shwink!', is a length of chrome capped with a star-tooth. Like Roxas, if it connects-- The lacquer case clicks shut."
Rean Schwarzer	And thieves appear, interrupting the transfer of weapons. Someone too fast to see was in the midst of it all, though he could sense their positioning. "ARCUS, activate," Rean says, a ring of blue light surrounding him. Arthur was directly engaged with the fast guy, so this would be the most useful for him, wouldn't it? "Arthur, heads up! Chrono Drive!" Rean shouts as the spell resolves. A spinning clock appears under Arthur's feet, filling the air with the sound of turning gears and ticking clocks. His speed should be boosted, hopefully evening the playing field between him and Ezra a bit more.
Ezra Mochizuki	All at once, Ezra is attacked, surrounded, or cursed by about half-a-dozen people. He makes a laugh of mania, not joy, as the spear and the sword come striking out. The spear and the sword are a deadly combo. If his legs are hit, he can't run, and if he goes prone, he loses. If his helmet is shattered, he loses. If the gravity goes out, he wins, somehow. The blade meets his left arm, case in the right, jolting out so rapidly as to send a pressure burst at the swordsman, the blade hitting suit and metal. Both are durable enough that the suit doesn't break and the arm doesn't take real damage, but there's still pain sensors, and they throw him off...but not enough to stop him from jumping right as the gravity goes out. The spear swings and a misses, a /strong/ relief from Ezra, for who balance is important. The next question, however, is where to land. There's floating rocks and debris, so he lands on one of those, taking a second to breathe and give himself a thumbs up. He can't resist as his case is locked, if he even realizes what's going on. And then the curse of luck kicks in. The heat is still melting off his boots. It chips off part of the rock he's standing on, pushing it back and causing him to lose his balance, floating in the zero-gravity. Normally, this would be defeat! But Ezra's got quick, reckless thinking all over his brain. Gotta do things fast, as he keeps a tight hand on that case, trying not to burn it. Ezra begins swimming. He is not an Olympic swimmer by any means, but he knows how to doggy-paddle, and by god, he'll do it. As he starts paddling, he gains speed again, ludicrous speeds for air-swimming poorly, and tries to breach out of the zero-grav space, swimming as fast as he can to ram straight into Arthur if he gets a chance and push him back, and hopefully, land on his feet. Arthur's noticeably faster than before, but even then, Ezra's extremely fast. His voice is modulated when he speaks. "Man, I really should have paid attention in gym class!"
Lilian Rook	For Ezra's backup -- they don't seem to be backing him up. It very much appears to be two sets of operations ongoing, for whatever reason that is. Gravity suddenly exploding and going haywire doesn't seem to be something anyone was prepared for, as they go spinning upwards into the air, losing all their footing, though the one man barely worth distinguishing who has the Oda's case manages to hold on to it. It was, all things considered, good strategy to have those two 'priests', more likely to be proper occultists, held in reserve, high up on the cliff and in the forest. There are a few yelled syllables busted out in metronome staccatto, little flashes of geometrically swept light, and then a volley of talismans is hurled down on the field, individually made of obvious paper, but moving more like shuriken. Several seek out ghosts on their own and plaster to their forms, expelling painfully white light and flooding them with intense banishing energy. Others land in the spell-struck area in a radiating circle pattern on the ground, releasing the power to repel ill-fortune and disease, clearing some space to work without being horrendously poisoned straight away. Roxas comes at one of the guys in jeans and jordans, swinging his keyblade. Though a feint it may be, his target goes from 'half-bald thug in casual' to spinning 270 degrees in place to plant his feet against his rubble and almost flinging the blade out of his hands with a snap of his wrist and a clap of his flattened fingers against the inside of the weapon, his other hand stabbing out to plunge a perfectly straightened hand right through his abdomen. The other keyblade, however, hits directly on its mark, as its holder cannot spare his arms, sealing it completely in conjunction with Xion locking it shut. It's unclear if they can tell what they did. Xion herself is, promptly afterwards, sideswiped by a leather jacket dude grabbing a chunk of floating rock and using Newton's laws to accelerate towards her at a somewhat slower speed than the rock now flying off into the sky at supersonic velocity the other way. He tackles into her, and attempts to take her down into a hard, crushing pin, not like any particular grapple or restrain, but an arm and knee maneuver designed to completely shatter someone's shoulder and arm. As for what she feels just beforehand, though, it'd be an enormous stretch to call the swords sentient in any way, but she can feel the impressions left on them since the day they were finished, lingering crystal clear as if no time had passed. Regrets. Frustration. Dissatisfaction. And the overwhelming desire to use them. To cut. A blade is for cutting. Anything will do. Anything at all. It's abundantly apparent by now though that someone had dressed up extremely skilled martial artists in boring street clothes and had them grow their hair out for two weeks to disguise any kind of monastic affiliation. Guessing at that fact is a meaningful scrap of information, but far from complete. They don't really have a lot they can do about the cloud of noxious vapours still surrounding the purified circle, except get through it with the least exposure they can; no doubt they're up there in terms of esoteric 'purity and mind and body' or whatever, and can handle a second or two of immersion. All of them find means to orient and accelerate back to ground. Due to the encirclement of Elites, there's no easy way out, but they communicate with each other with just a series of silent nods, and pick the softest targets to punch a hole through and escape.
Lilian Rook	Unfortunate Ben is one such target, obviously being a mage. Tamamo looks nominally pretty squishy and passive too, however, they mysteriously swerve to avoid her, without attempting to evade her. Rean looks like the dumb inexperienced kid as well. Those two are who they blast through, the three with free hands, either leaping up and taking flying kicks at them, or barraging them with rapid sequences of palm strikes to various pressure points and vital spots. The one with the case turns and stops as the troopers give up on Erza and turn to fire on them. he uses the case as a shield -- or rather, more like a large and unwieldy bo, twisting and tilting it this way and that to deflect bullets, which turn off at sixty degree angles and punch neat holes through trees and boulders instead, despite the case's ostensibly lacquered wood surface. Okay, they definitely haven't realized that the case has been sabotaged, nor are they willing to deal with more than a couple of Elites at a time. Despite their obvious skill, they seem to have the uncommon discipline of 'acknowledging that taking on two or three unknown quantities of Multiversal each is a risky idea'. The retainers, meanwhile are more interested in Ezra. His superspeed fist crunches something ceramic in the swordsman's armour, but he leans back forward just at the edge of being about to fall over. Calling something out that Ezra can't quite catch -- something to do with nightjars -- in that moment he is caught by bad luck and microgravity, Ezra is assailed by an intense barrage of slashing waves; they clearly aren't stereotypical vacuum cuts, because there are literal arcs of glittering blue fireflies coming at him from a multitude of angles. The guy with the jumonji spear tries to seize the advantage, leaping straight up to an extreme height to be out of the gravity-altered area, flipping his spear around in one hand, and hurling it back down at Ezra's position, literally cracking with thunder and seemingly becoming a descending lightning bolt.
Arthur Lowell	>Arthur: Take Chrono Drive ------------------------------------------------- \| \| \| ACTIVE \| DANGER \| CRITICAL \| \| ---------- \| ------------ \| ------------------- \| \| \| \| \| \| ******** \| ********** \| ___________________ \| \| \| \| \| ------------------------------------------------- Arthur's UI displays and then fills up a CHRONO DRIVE bar, granting Arthur a temporary spendable speed-boost! "ALRIGHT!" He shouts, swiping his broom back and revving the heavy rocket engines. "I GOT THIS SHIT!" He takes off! ----------------------------------------------------- \| \| \| \| THRUSTER MODES \| THRUSTER BUFFS \| \| \| \| \| [ ] DASH \| [X] CHRONO DRIVE \| \| [ ] CRUISE \| \| \| [ ] CHARGE \| \| \| [ ] SPRINT \| \| \| [X] ESCAPE VELOCITY \| \| \| [ ] UNSTOPPABLE FORCE \| \| \| [ ] PLAID \| \| \| [ ] UP A GODDAMN NOTCH \| \| \| [ ] LET'S DO THIS SHIT \| \| ----------------------------------------------------- He moves to meet the man as quick as he can. Air-swimming works when you're that fast, which means he still needs a comparable boost to keep pace with the mystery speedster! "SHOULD'A LEARNED THAT STREET SWIMMIN' BRO!" He shouts, as he rockets in rapid maneuvering. "'CAUSE SCHOOL'S FOR NERDS!" He rams head-long with Ezra releasing a tremendous shockwave from the impact and taking a chunk off his HEALTH VIAL, and spending a significant amount of his new CHRONO DRIVE just to keep up with the crash. HOLD THIS GUY IN PLACE! Arthur's field wavers at the impact, but he shifts up his strategy. Spear coming from above... If he can time that button press just right... NOW! Arthur reverses null gravity into overcharged gravity, trying to send both himself and Ezra slamming into the ground fast and pressing the area down with many times the force of Earth's gravity -- accelerating the spear, and trying to keep Ezra briefly immobilized both at once!
Ben d'Tarkanan	Ben furrows his brow as several of his ghosts are banished. That's work of some manner of holy man. He is quickly on his own, his remaining ghosts chased down by those prayer strips which seem to cement to their forms. Worse, the work of those same occultists counters his magics. He must get through to them-- His train of thought is interrupted as a single Jordan collides with the side of his head. Most wizards fall over when kicked directly in the head by a monk. Ben is taken by surprise, but he is not at all on his back. If anything, the darkening bruise and split lip seems to steel his resolve. He spits, a bloody gob landing in the dirt as he raises his sword. Oily black grease covers the ground behind his assailant. Before it's even come to a rest, Ben twirls his sword, holding it to his back to act as a momentary shield, then turning and kicking back, with all of his unnatural strength, and not a shred of restraint. His opponent knew the risk from the moment he attacked. As he comes back around, Ben is hoping to find his opponent knocked off balance, forced to step into the slippery grease. If he can manage, he'll reach out with his left hand, attempt to grab him as he falls, and toss him into the woods.
Tamamo	Tamamo has done as much as she can quickly accomplish with regard to that first, swiftest bandit, and there is still that other group, with fewer of the defenders having gone to safekeep the other sword. She turns her attention in that direction without seeing what happens to Ezra, knowing that even a curse cast that quickly won't leave him be for awhile yet, even if the constant misfortune only provides aid to the others engaging him. Though wisely trying to get away as quickly as possible before they're trapped, the plainclothes martial artists have not quite broken the encirclement. As they do, "My, how interesting. And yet, I cannot overlook this act with such ease." There are few things she can manage with sufficient speed for the task, and the hindsight of necessary preparations is as useless as ever. Rather than a spread-out barrier as she'd first intended, with the battlefield becoming obnoxiously complex in individual combat only for the sake of pulling away, the entire sheaf of talismans she pulls free fly out solely aimed at the monk-like thief with the box. Any that hit him will stick softly enough, and blocking one with a shield would only be useful if the shield were immediately thrown far away. Again, Tamamo's chosen methods are as softly non-lethal as she can manage while still playing to her strengths. The talismans don't burn away immediately, but pulse with a calming magic, anesthetizing, draining away energy and the edges of emotions, calling to exhaustion, apathy, and ultimately to sleep. Tearing them would be like bursting a bag that is slowly draining, and is not recommended. She'll spare the last one or two for someone else's aid, if she can manage it, but slowing the immediate carrier has her priority.
Roxas	Roxas rapidly dismisses and re-summons both of his Keyblades in reaction to "jeans and jordans", bringing the awkwardly-shaped hilts together to block the counter-attack between them. He's driven back into the surrounding circle of defenders. Particles of light come into being at the point of impact, miniscule threads of light bursting off into the surroundings as they do so. It's not an attack exactly-- just a form of elemental defensive reaction. But the moment he sees Xion make contact with the lacquer case and seal it, he simply vanishes into another streak of light. The light enters the area-of-effect of Arthur's increased gravity well, sagging unexpectedly as it enters-- as nonsensical as that is, it still seems to have a serious effect on Roxas's point-to-point. He reappears from the light a moment later, his weapons spun about in a reverse grip. He takes several quick swipes at Ezra, before once again rapidly dismissing and re-summoning his weapons to attempt a two-weapon thrust aimed towards the black lacquer case containing the sword that he stole. As before, the goal is the same-- everything but the strikes at the box itself are distractions and making contact is a bonus. He's just trying to seal the sword in before Ezra gets away.
Xion	Making the connection with the lacquer case, Xion is All Smiles for a fraction of a second before a rock connects with her. A piece of stone - ha! That won't even possibly stop her! Oh, it's a piece of rock accellerated at wuxia nonsense relativistic speeds, laying her out, before her arm and shoulder are viciously hyperextended in the pin. "Did you know..." Xion begins, vaguely over the pain. "... what the sword says? What it wants?" A flicker - her arm leaves the martial artist's grip. A tremor in the air, vibrating through the scruffy monk, and Xion is behind him, wigglig feeling back into her fingers. "That really hurt, by the way. But you can't pin me down like that. Bye, guy!" She flickers out of existance. Meanwhile... ... <<J-IC-Scene> Xion says, "Hey wait, is that guy really a ghost lord?!"> Ben has a feeling of mild-to-moderate danger to his personal self from every direction at once.
Rean Schwarzer	With Arthur making use of his speed boost, Rean turns to face the group of thieves. Then one of the thieves decides to bring the fight to him. Kid's not quite as inexperienced as he might look, though. Rean raises his arms, moving to block the palm strikes with his forearms and keep them away from anything vital. One of the palm strikes hits him in the chest, though, knocking him into the tree he was standing in front of. He grunts at the impact and slumps to the ground. But he's down not out. Dazed, he lets out a few coughs, and gets back on his feet. Taking hold of his sword's hilt, he kicks off the ground, headed straight for the Plainclothes Possibly a Monk if he's fleeing, quickdrawing into a burst of slashes.
Ezra Mochizuki	Well, this still isn't going well. As the sword blows come forward, backed by fireflies, Ezra swallows. That's gonna pierce his suit, that's- Pause. Ezra thinks. He has all the time in the world to think. His mind is moving /way/ too fast. He just saw the monks with their case. What were they doing? They were- they were using it to deflect bullets. The case must be resistant. He can't use it to deflect all these blows, but he can use it to deflect something! Unpause. The case swings around to deflect one of the slashes, but the rest cut into his left arm and waist, exposing black metal and flesh, and causing him to curse in pain as he bleeds lightly. The arm is damaged, but more resistant than the other. The suit immediately begins to seal itself, but his arm's not working the same after getting sliced up - he'll need the techs to see to that. The spear goes up. That's /bad/. Arthur reverses gravity! Also /bad/, as Ezra plummets to the ground, injured and panicked. Pause. The spear's coming down. It's full of lightning. What if he takes out two birds with one sharp implement? Roll, Ezra, roll! Unpause. Ezra suddenly rolls over as Roxas gets a few good swings on his suit, causing grunts of pain and little ruptures that seal themselves, and is able to hit the case easily - his real objective. The case is lifted. It's the most reckless stunt he'll do today, if not ever. He holds it to /intercept the spear/, trying to deflect the lightning at Roxas and Arthur and possibly open him up space to get up and start escaping. The sword case can handle it, right? His arm certainly can't. The right one dislocates on impact, causing a yelp of pain, but if he can just escape the 'grapple'... He's gonna start trying to run.
Arthur Lowell	>Arthur: Hold him down! Think of something! Arthur's gravity, no matter how intense he makes it, can't hold Ezra down. His mind races with possibilities, at speeds unfortunately slower than the speedster's rapid-fire thoughts. He can't pause his perception, but he can call up his genius as fast as possible. What's the fastest way Arthur can disrupt a run? Arthur's eyes flash to one side and he notices: The creek! Super-low-temperature mountain runoff. Muscles, even and perhaps especially synthetic ones, often contract more slowly, more painfully, in cold temperatures rather than warm. >Arthur: The Odas are depending on you! Get this stopped fast with muscle-chilling, spend as much Chrono Drive as you can on it! [X] CHRONO DRIVE Fire as fast as possible, summon the Gates as quick as one can! Snap! A Gate, fired from his broom straight into the creek. Snap! A gate, summoned just in front of Arthur! Ultra-chilled water barrages Ezra, trying to cool his muscles to absolutely unhealthy or, as the case may be, unstable temperatures and make it incredibly hard to get up a dash, if not take the man off his feet with a firehose of force from the creek's rapid pace and the pressure at the riverbed! This is probably the last chance Arthur has to slow him down! After all, he /did/ show off he wasn't great dealing with swimming!
Lilian Rook	Ben is obviously supposed to be a necromancer. A dealer in ghosts and plagues. A grotesque occultist who spends all his time in workshops and cemetaries, huffing formaldehyde and grave rot. He is supposed to get his head kicked clean off and sent across a football field's distance. Not be on his feet. He's also not supposed to hit back. What was a smartly calculated move is now a grievous overextension. The undercover monk blocks the hefty kick with as much ease as can exist with a disparity of strength but also one of martial skill. The former sends him straight through the grease puddle, leaving him wide open to being grabbed -- quite bitterly ironically, in that moment, because he obviously isn't compensating for wearing a jacket nor loose t-shirt beneath it. He ends up yeeted hard down the mountain, with a lot of crashing and bashing fading off into the distance. He's probably not dead, but slogging it back up will take so much time that the rest of the group will be long gone. Another undercover monk finds himself grasping nothing when Xion just teleports out of his hands. Looking around with a speed normally reserved for hummingbirds rather than someone with human neck bones, he finds her nowhere in his vicinity, and makes the wise choice to get up and run too. He goes right back the one under assault from Rean, caught on the defensive as he has to backpedal and gain distance from the group to prevent being surrounded, while also fending off Rean. The sheer absurdity is that the man can deal with flurries of slashes by slapping and butting the sword by the flat with his fingers and elbows, even clapping the blade to stop a deadly blow before Rean slips it out of his hands, but having to give up his footwork and constantly move backwards, he takes several rents through all of his casual clothes and bloody cuts over rock hard abdominals and trained extensors and triceps. Unfortunately, the warrior monk carrying the case cannot either. Tamamo's own talismans plaster to the other side, and then surge through him for carrying it, slowing, staggering, then halting his step. His last relevant act is to call out "Not . . . one of them." in Japanese, before hurling the box to the sole free monk blasting down the road and about to jump down the slope, before just slumping over and ceasing to do anything. Since the mages up on the clifftop haven't been addressed, they've had plenty of time to prepare more spells. Roxas and Xion especially are targeted for making contact with the swords, barraged with fans of exploding fire talismans, but they even go as far as to attack Arthur and Ben with sealing symbols that'd completely paralyze an ordinary man, apparently working on a larger spell too.
Lilian Rook	In Ezra's case, one last bit of paper hits him right in the forehead of its own accord. It fills him with a brief reinvigoration and some form of good fortune to try and counteract the powerful curse dropped on him by Tamamo. It won't last long, because the thundercrack against his impromptu shield is, in fact, stopped, with the spearpoint embedded a centimeter in the wood before falling out, but all of the talismans and ropes binding the box are burnt away. Ezra, holding it so close, can feel -- no, is assaulted by -- the urge to open the box, right now, and to cut something. Anything. Preferably people though. Just the thought is intoxicating. Addictive. Though, it's also the point where the sword-wielding Oda retainer leaps on top of him, yelling "Not so fast, bastard!", not even having his sword out as he just goes for Ezra with all his weight and armour and strength to tumble down the cliff, ending up in the ice water if he must, for having better insulation and greater mass. The spear-wielding Hojo retainer rushes to recover his weapon, not being able to catch up, and instead waves at the Oda troopers, who immediately fall under his command. He orders 'two ranks and fire' and gestures up at the hillside, and then the surroundings roar with sustained burst fire from two dozen armed soldiers, shredding up the mages' cover. He singles out a pair of captains with different helmets and aims them at the fleeing monk and at Rean's opponent. The latter is forced to begin deflecting bullets with his hands now too, not nearly as elegantly plausible as with a sword, leaving welts and bruises over his bared and bleeding arms. He's practically stumbling back now, looking for an opening to turn and jump away. The former can't afford to slow down enough to use the sword case, instead just banking on going serpentine with extreme wuxia leaps and bounces off trees and cliff rocks, mostly resulting in a lot of ground exploding around him as he gains almost as much distance as he needs.
Roxas	Because Roxas's intent /wasn't/ really truly combative, he isn't paying enough attention to the spear. When it is redirected towards him, he has a perfectly reasonable reaction to it that doesn't help him at all. He twists his body away from it, each keyblade coming up in a pair to hook the polearm in a manner similar to what would be expected from a hook sword-- which takes care of the /spear/, but not the lightning. He immediately eats a horrible electric shock that prompts him to vanish into another streak of light, retreating and re-emerging several yards away at Xion's side. His hair is standing even more on end than usual, his whole form smoking from the electricity. Roxas also appears just in time to get bombarded by exploding fans, one of which manages to send him tumbling before he recognizes the danger at all. He crumples against the ground for a second or two, an apparently supernatural fortitude being the only thing that gets him back up again. Doubly-scorched and in completely different ways, Roxas squints across the battlefield towards the monk who just caught the other sword case. He doesn't hesitate, but only because what he's about to do gives him the option to adjust at leisure shortly. He waits until the monk makes his leap, and immediately afterwards a portal of swirling darkness tears itself open, starting as a mere pinprick in the air and rapidly expanding into an oval with a grim interior. The portal snaps shut immediately afterwards. It's easy enough to /enter/ Darkness, but harder by far to exit it.
Ezra Mochizuki	The frigid water impacts the suit. The sheer force blows Ezra back hard, bruising, but the temperatures don't do /much/, as the suit is temperature-resistant. Ezra shivers a bit, as he tries to hold onto the case for dear life. The helmet is briefly cracked - it starts sealing again, but Arthur gets a face, and can hear a voice curse. It might sound familiar off the radio, but he hasn't really interacted with him, so probably not enough to place it. Arthur just needs a name now. The case's wards are gone, right as the swordsman tackles Ezra down the cliff. During the rolling, Ezra uses his mechanical legs and arms to wrestle back, kicking into the guy, and they both distance from each other at the bottom with two strong kicks. Ezra looks to the case. It's mesmerizing. Addicting. But he's supposed to be a hero. He can't use this sword. He can't slice a man, can he? Fuck it. Ezra tries to crack the case open. It's locked. It's way too locked even for his enhanced speed and strength. In a fit of mania, he takes the case and starts bashing it into the swordsman's head, probably beating him to a bloody dead pulp, before realizing what he's done. Ezra immediately moves to flee, case in tow.
Tamamo	Tamamo walks up to the falling monk, patting him, saying, "Yes, yes, you will tell me all about this later, no?" If nobody rescues him, that is the likely result. She can be very persuasive when she tries. A faint frown grows as she surveys the increasing injuries upon... everyone but her, it seems. While being violently attacked is far from enjoyable, seeing others attacked in place of her is an even greater cause for her to become upset. Roxas, in particular, certainly looked as if he'd been electrocuted, then exploded into light only to reform elsewhere. That cannot, Tamamo has concluded, be healthy for him. And so it is that Tamamo focuses first on getting within some seemingly arbitrary range before pulling out an entirely different stack of paper talismans and tossing them his way. These ones will burn up on getting into range of the target, healing wounds, restoring energy, unfrazzling hair (and less visible effects of electrical damage), and giving him a shot of get-up-and-go energy. It's a generally pleasant experience. Afterwards, she makes for the mages up the mountain, aiming to use gentle persuasion, to ask them to please stop this, as answering her questions is the far more important task with which they should be concerned. While gentle in aspect, she has the mind-compelling aura to back up a demand no matter how it's phrased. It would probably have been tactically sound to shut off the final active hostile force first before attending those under fire, but this is how it happens.
Xion	Xion was just about to do a cool thing. She was just about to out-Ninja the ninja! She was just about to GET the GHOST WARLORD! From vaguely 'off' and 'to the side' of Ben, Xion reappears, animation erroring back into frame and raising her keyblade - sideways - to bring it down on Ben's skull. You know, the flat of the blade. It's less lethal that way. Not that a keyblade is naturally sharp, mind you, it's magically sharp. Any surface is equally as useful at cutting, which is to say not at all until it is. Still, this is 'the flat of the blade'! Until she gets roasted the heck out by a bolt of lightning that blasts her both 'into frame' and 'out on the ground in front of' Ben, gasping and frazzled, her hair lightened in places from raven-black to burnt-auburn. "G-ghost warlord... Gotta stop you... for a ninja... Just stay right there, I need to..." Xion lays on the ground, groaning. "Being electrocuted is hard, and nobody understands."
Ben d'Tarkanan	Ben watches the monk fly only so long as it takes to know that he is flying. He also knows that feeling of danger. It's familiar. It's familiar enough that he's developed a kind of defense against it; a way to keep it from hurting him. Watching him fight, it's hard to tell who the ghosts are, and who is living--even when the last of his ghosts is banished. His eyes seem someplace else, his motions cold, almost robotic, his expression a haunting, distant frown. Xion, and conversely Roxas, appear near him. He pays them no mind--he isn't engaged with them. Even when her keyblade cracks into his skull, all that she receives from him is a grunt. He is, instead, laser-focused on the monk about to make his escape. There's quite a distance between them. He attempts to bridge it, by making a long jump. He casts a spell of agility upon himself, his form briefly shimmering. He crouches, and is in the middle of springing forward when he is struck by one of those symbols. The result is his back seizing up just as he's about to leap. Instead of nimbly crossing the distance in a few long jumps, he is cut short, hitting the dirt just feet away as his muscles twitch. Still, that haunting look is in his eyes. It's as if all the chaos around him is in a different world. Even as the spells hit the dirt all around him, as allies and enemies clash in close combat, as gunfire chews up the mages' cover, he remains focused on that monk. Up until he is swallowed by Roxas' portal. There is no congratulation, no acknowledgement. Just the next step. The next step is to catch a breather. Light bends around him until it passes right through him. Even the grass and dirt beneath him lose evidence that he lies atop them--the dirt no longer bears his imprint, where it lies, and the blades of grass stand up. Invisibly, he struggles to stand, his body wracked with involuntary twitches. He grits his teeth and plods forward. That just leaves the mages, and Ezra. The woman who levied the curse against him appears to be handling the mages, anyway. Or at the very least, distracting them. Whispered voices accuse, berate, belittle him as he lines up a shot. Betrayer! Coward! You left us to- The shroud--both that of his invisibility spell, and his Dragonmark, fade away, as a ray of darkness extends from his shaky grasp. He's attempting to pile on the curses. As opposed to bad luck, this one seems more directly insidious, attempting to sap the strength and endurance of its victim--assuming it hits. The paralysis spell makes it difficult to aim. Only once he has fired does he speak. "We are allies. Do not strike me again."
Arthur Lowell	>Arthur: STOP HIM!! "No you don't!!" Arthur roars aggressively! Those broom thrusters blossom and he slams a thumb through a glass-cased safety over a direly red button. He surges forward, rockets starting to blaze!! ------------------------------------------------- \| \| \| ACTIVE \| DANGER \| CRITICAL \| \| ---------- \| ------------ \| ------------------- \| \| \| \| \| \| ******** \| ******** \| ***************** \| \| \| \| \| ------------------------------------------------- He kicks off, ready to chase after Ezra with all his speed! Maybe he can't keep up with him, but he can at least chase him down hard for as long as he can, and do his best with gravity magic! Time to max out the speed! >==> ----------------------------------------------------- \| \| \| \| THRUSTER MODES \| THRUSTER BUFFS \| \| \| \| \| [X] DASH \| [X] CHRONO DRIVE \| \| -#- CRUISE \| \| \| -#- CHARGE \| \| \| -#- SPRINT \| \| \| -#- ESCAPE VELOCITY \| \| \| -#- UNSTOPPABLE FORCE \| \| \| -#- PLAID \| \| \| -#- UP A GODDAMN NOTCH \| \| \| -#- LET'S DO THIS SHIT \| \| ----------------------------------------------------- Paralytic magic hits hard. "HHHHRK!" His whole body seizes up, but more importantly, almost all of his thruster modes are locked down. His thrusters sputter abruptly, rockets belching smoke. He burns through all the rest of his Chrono Drive all at once, but even that's not enough! He slams to the ground and struggles to break into a much more mundane run, powering as hard through the paralysis as he can. But that's /no/ match for Ezra! "God /dammit/ you /asshole/! Get back here and /fight/!!" He shouts, full of hot-blooded determination that's going nowhere in particular at high speed.
Rean Schwarzer	While the not a monk was distracted by the gunners, Rean leaps forward with a shout, aiming to just tackle the guy to the ground and keep him from fleeing. While Rean probably weighs less than this muscular guy, The guy is pretty wounded at this point, so hopefully he has the advantage. Or he just gets kicked.
Lilian Rook	Ezra smashing his personal opponent's head with the case is a fairly nasty few blows, but not only is that big samurai helmet still actually a helmet, and already very much bulletproof, but the guy tackling him is an absolutely swole superhuman. Despite the case's hardness, it's not very heavy, as it contains only a sword and padding, and so it's a lot of repetitive bashing before the retainer loses his grip. Ezra barely gets to stand up and take a few steps before the katana flashes out of its scabbard again and aims to take his whole leg out at the calf, but doesn't quite catch him, perhaps 'only' biting through the back before he's gone in a flash, leaving the Oda retainer to pound his fist into the ground and yell "I won't forgive you for this! You have no idea what you've done! I'll find you!" after him. Tamamo moves up to find that her sorcerous enemies are definitely slinging some form of deviant (perhaps 'modernized') onmyodo everywhere, and certainly hiding their faces in a way they shouldn't be, as well as also very busy with being shot at by ranks of soldiers. Despite the ever present gap between most people and the 'Enlightened', they're not taking pot shots from hapless goons; they are, in fact, under fire from pretty well-trained commando types, who are using perfectly functional and overpowered assault rifles, under a perfectly competent commander. Most of their attention is dedicated to throwing up barriers that burn away and need to be constantly renewed in frequent replacement layers under the constant barrage of fire, having shredded up most of the cover on their way up. They have to spend so much time prepping and concentrating each renewed barrier spell that they can barely get thirty seconds of running between each. When she makes her way up there, the gunfire has to abruptly calm down to prevent hitting her should she suddenly move. This gives one of the mages just enough time to turn tail, resisting her wiles long enough to draw a five point circle by a glowing star completed with his hands, and disappear at high speed, traveling along a ley line. The other is not so fortunate. He hesitates, then stops, then just kind of sits down and weirdly chills out. Rean jumps on one of the last two monks he's engaged with. He collides with him successfully, due to his wounds, but with the momentarily halted gunfire, he has to deal with the fact that he is much shorter, much lighter, and not quite as strong as the guy who has nearly a full foot and a hundred pounds on him and has been karate chopping boulders in a monastery somewhere for decades. He gets preemptively grabbed as he pounces, both lower arms caught, then feet planted against his midsection as the plainclothes martial artist rolls backwards, looking to drive the wind out of him and then propel him up and over and well across the road and into the cliff, releasing his wrists at just the right moment. Unfortunately for him though, all he can do is get up and start limping away, taking long, steep drops down the cliffside to see to his wounds somewhere else. The last one, with the Oda's -- to be the Hojo's -- sword, disappears into the Darkness. Now nobody gets what they want. Not until someone figures out where the hell the guy ends up, and until Ezra gets his compensation drops his package at a fallback point for not having both, mathematically important swords. Perhaps having two guys captured by Tamamo at this point will be helpful. Ones who might get beaten up a little too bad with the way the two extremely angered retainers are coming up to them, considering the disaster this had been on their watch, and the inevitable honour missions they're going to have to orchestrate in revenge to maintain the house's face.
Ezra Mochizuki	The samurai will find something interesting as the sword hits the back of the fleeing Ezra's legs - they're metal. They take some nasty hits that will ALSO need to be repaired the following day, but not enough to stop him from escaping. Mission sorta accomplished. Ezra's gonna beat himself up over it. If only he did better, if only he got that second sword. What a joke.
Tamamo	In part, at least, the defense failed. The transfer did not take place. The interlopers didn't get what they wanted, either, and given the curse on the blades, Tamamo has some suspicion that the sword they did get won't be of any use. Really, it's a flip of a coin, but the situation fits just a bit better to suspect that the third party already had three blades of their own. Tamamo has a number of ways to thoroughly incapacitate someone, and while applying a constant pressure of fascinating radiance is notably effective, quick, and wide-reaching, it's not something that lasts a long while without her supervision, when she's using it like this. She has to lead the captured mage down to join her other captive--and without delay, as she will be very cross if the samurai beat down her captive without good cause. 'Good cause' they will not have, for there are few adequate protections for staring into the Sun from this close. Any who do will feel assured that Tamamo is an understanding, trustworthy soul, who has every authority to question their identity, mission, and instructions. It would just be wrong to refuse her, not to mention foolish, given that the two offended clans are right there.
Rean Schwarzer	Yeah, that was dumb. Rean goes flying, impacting the cliff with a loud crack. He falls over, lying face down on the ground, unconscious.
Ben d'Tarkanan	The fight is over, for now. It's not a terrible outcome. The thief may have escaped with one, but bringing it back to his benefactors without the other would only bring reuin to them. It could be better. His own efforts were countered by the enemy mages, his flight to them obstructed by the monk which is likely making his way up the mountain now. At the very least, his early warning allowed at least one clan to keep its sword. That just leaves Xion, and her 'quest' to defeat the 'Ghost Warlord.' He turns to face her. His demeanor changes entirely. For the first time since before the fight started, he looks as if he is actually on this world. Ben sheathes his sword, and looks her in the eye. He is smiling, and it comes across as warm and human, despite the dark bruise on his face and his split lip. He offers an explanation, one spoken much less tersely than his previous exchange with her on the radio. "Goodlady Xion, yes? I remember your voice." He whistles sharply. That white horse comes out from under the shaded tree, standing faithfully beside him. "I do not fear losing to you--but if and when I do, I should greatly prefer my opponent to earn her victory. Anything else would belittle us both." He mounts the horse in one smooth motion as the paralysis finally wears off, smiling down at her from atop his mount. "I will accept a formal challenge, now that our business today is concluded. If you still wish to see it issued, you may choose the time and place. I can be reached at my estate in the city of Sharn, else you may contact my colleagues in the Concord." With a slight inclination of his head, he offers a farewell. "Good day to you." He rides at a walk towards the remaining clan representatives, there to offer (rather, to be /seen/ offering) his further support. After that, with a sharp cry of 'yah!' he bids the horse into a run, a bold pace to set on the uneven terrain. He makes it look easy.