Constellation Promenade :: Middleton

     This is the center of town; it's a hub of activity at nearly all hours, 
though in the evening, it quiets a little. A large, public square is located 
here, with an open-air amphitheatre dominating most of the central landscape. 
Announcements, festivals, and plays are all staged here, as well as the 
occasional town meeting the summer. A few buildings dot the landscape, but for 
the most part, its open green and the great bowl in the center.

     At each branching road into the various districts is a great gate, hung 
with the symbols for Earth, Water, Wood, Fire, and Metal engraved into silver 
plaques, each leading to other places with their own purposes in mind.

Contents:
Arcia
Mirage
Pride
Shuyin
The Sun
Kaname
Tokaki
Celes
Obvious exits:
Earth District <E>  Water District <W>  Wood District <WO>  Fire District <F>  
Metal District <M>  Ain Soph HQ <A>


     A town split by war. A city trapped behind its own walls, violence brewing 
and curdling under the sweltering, unseasonable heat brought by the winds and 
the shifting sands of the desert. The occupation of the Winterheart forces of 
the Promenade and the Earth District had shoved a lot of Middleton residents 
into the remaining districts, so although things had not been precisely 
miserable, quarters were tight; and supplies running short, on both sides. After 
the surprise strike of a week before, no further major assaults had taken place; 
merely jabs, light strikes that withdrew before wreaking too much damage on 
either side. And, under the surface, a significant amount of sabotage. There's 
nothing like trying to occupy a strange city that the enemy knows like the back 
of their hand; conversely, there's nothing like a highly-trained squad of spies 
and professional saboteurs in a city that had been mostly peaceful and open. 
Spoiled or destroyed food, ruined weapons, dropped whispers leaked to unfriendly 
ears--it makes life exciting, while people sit, and wait, and wait, nerves 
growing tauter and tension higher with each passing day.
     Today, though, whispers race through the Middleton residents--the Mayor is 
back, and has made it known that he's to give a speech. There's no official 
announcement, but somehow, in some way, everyone turns up at the right time, at 
the right place. There's a general shuffling and milling about, as people murmur 
quietly among themselves.


Mirage as Nanashi comes out, with Tai'en and Wood Guard along, wearing clothing 
that shows the bullet hole that injured him. It's the real man's clothes in fact, 
with the blood washed away since Miri never learned it torn but clean. Showing 
through the hole is a bandage that's not needed but is there for effect. 'He' is 
leaning on some help to get out where people can see him and taking advantage of 
that help to make up for being blind as a bat and not having the help that the 
real one has in getting around. Once in place, he gives the people time to 
settle from seeing him before his voice lifts.

     "Citizens of Middleton. Men. Women. Children. Soldiers, healers, villagers 
alike. I stand before you here, today, to say to you that this is the final 
moment. The final battle. We can no longer be rules by Winterheart. They have 
invaded our city, destroyed our walls, killed our people. They have torn apart 
the rules of the game and tried to remake them in their own image. You came here 
to escape the war, to live your lives in neutrality and peace, and all this was 
stolen away with the violence of the night, with the actions of a priest who has 
since faded, his very actions punished by the gods that he tried to defy. Well 
this must stop. No longer will we be held under Winterheart's rule. I stand 
before you to make a call to arms, to ask that all who can fight stand up once 
more, to offer their aid to the battle ahead of us. For if this is to be our 
last moment, we will need every person, every single bit of aid that can be 
offered. Let the knowledge of the gods, the strength of your arms, and the power 
of your souls let themselves be felt. Stand up and be heard, for we will need 
every person's help to make this final push.

     "Winterheart had made an attempt on my life. They had everyone believing I 
was dead, touting my death, using it to drive the fight out of people. But as 
you can see, I am very much alive. My death was only a ruse by Winterheart, to 
try and break your spirits, to keep the fight from happening, to destroy any 
hope of our breaking out of their slavery. Know that this will not go 
unpunished."

And here, thanks to a little planning with Tai'en, Simurgh's banner appears in 
the sky to 'prove' that it's really Nanashi.

     "I have the power, and I am willing to stand among you, to fight as one 
with you, my people, to help make this battle a success. The Point Guard lives, 
their power the backbone of the city, and the Mayor, Simurgh's priest, is here 
to lend his knowledge. But it is you, the people, the true power of Middleton 
that must be willing to stand with us. I swear, by the power of Simurgh, by the 
strength of my Persona, that I will not let this day end without Winterheart 
being driven from our walls. Enough is enough. It is time for Middleton to 
finish this battle, to make our final stand, and to thrust Winterheart from our 
borders forever. I say to you, who's with me?"



Tokaki, the Wood Point, stands ready as an escort for the erstwhile 'Mayor'. 
He's garbed for battle, the cruel Whip at his side and his leather armour 
marking him as one of the Point, rather than just as the oft-silly silver-haired 
prettyboy. There's no sign of the wounds he took in the last battle, Wood's 
powers working equally well on leather as on flesh. He stands to the left of the 
Mayor, following him, and keeping an eye out. Both for any potential 
troublemakers in the crowd... and on the Mayor as well. Trust is something in 
short supply these days, and Tokaki wasn't entirely sure Mirage would do as she 
promised. Not until the speech is given - and nicely done at that - does he 
relax on that count. He had a promise to uphold. The Points have a plan, and so 
far the first part of the plan has gone well. The speech will prime the people 
of Middleton, inspire them for the upcoming battle. Now he looks around, no 
longer so intent on the mayor. Now, he waits for a sign...

     Up on your random and unassuming housetop that has a flat enough surface to 
set up base on, there you will find Arcia Rinslet. With a pair of binocculars in 
hand and wearing a cloak over her clothes and still bandaged at places, she 
watches the proceedings from on high before sinking back down into a crouching 
position, out of sight. Turning around, she faces three cases that are already 
opened and contents mostly emptied-- hard gun cases. Rifles, in specific, as 
well as a little bag of goodies should she need to cause a little more chaos 
than what she can achieve with just a rifle alone. The three long firearms are 
set off to her side, propped against the small rise of wall and already loaded 
and prepared-- a girl's best friend, in a sense. Sweeping the optics back and 
forth, she keeps an intent stare on the crowd-- and a lookout for any possible 
Winterheart interference with this occasion.


     Ah, the good old days of subterfuge and intrigue and adventure. It's nice 
to have them back. Sort of. Accompanying "Nanashi" out to the slabs of stone 
that serve well enough as a speaking dais for now, Tai'en remains precisely two 
steps behind and one step to the side of him, flanking him with Tokaki on the 
other side. Perhaps unusually, she hardly makes a peep, either, looking almost 
demure as she stands--until the appropriate moment. A moment before the agreed-
upon time arrives, her lips begin to move, just barely. A close observer might 
notice her eyes burning brighter for a second, but it's more than likely 
eclipsed by the image of the aura of Simurgh that sweeps up around Mirashi, 
mimicking the one that had enfolded Nanashi in that first revolt, a four-winged 
bird of misty light.


The rumors had been flying about this for days. Of course Logan wouldn't have 
had any idea where or when if it hadn't been for Tokaki's 'invitation'. For some 
reason, people just don't tend to open up to a short hairy man who's almost 
permanently scowling. Odd. But thanks to that, and the promise of violence to 
come, Logan's been here since dawn, scopeing out the area. Obviously he wasn't 
the only one here, nor the only one watching things, but it never hurts to take 
a hands on approach. For some reason, supposedly dead people coming back from 
the dead always seems to end in some kinda fight. The fact that todays fight is 
planned is beside the point.
     So, for the moment, Logan's just milling about in the crowd, just another 
of many keeping an eye out for any sign of trouble. This would be the perfect 
time and place for a counter attack, after all. Catch them all while they're in 
one place. He watches, and listens, to the speech given by 'Nanashi'. Despite 
the fact all his senses are telling him its the real deal, one fact causes a 
frown to pass over his face. Tokaki told him that Nanashi had died. If anyone 
would have known it was a ruse, he would. On the other hand.. the wood point is 
up on the stage as well. And he out right said he didn't trust Logan. With a 
shrug, he dismiss's the thought. Either way, Nanashi has certainly done a good 
job stirring up the crowd. Good.
     As the last of the speech dies down, Logan starts trying to make his way 
towards the front of the front of the crowd, to meet up with Tokaki. If theres a 
plan for violence, he wants in. Someone owes him for all the damn bullet holes 
in his favorite jacket.



More than just the crowd watching the speech has been primed. Though the Metal 
Point has been conspicuously absent for several days now, those that know him 
would not be wrong in making the assumption that he certainly hasn't been idle 
during that time. Poor sleep, technical problems, and generally crappy morale 
has plagued the general populace of the Winterheart contingent as the wraith 
silently applies some of his less...er...explosive talents to the war effort.

Some percentage of his attention was set upon the 'elite' soldiers, and when 
they start filtering off... it became fairly obvious he needed to follow. It 
meant abandoning his host, however, for Joe Random Milspec trailing along where 
he isn't supposed to go would undoubtedly be noticed... and so Shuyin prowls 
quietly along in the wake of his targets... both curious what they're up to, and 
looking for a good chance to get them when they aren't expecting it. Sometimes, 
he's solid, sometimes not, but he -is- persistent.

Stubbornness is a virtue, you know. Honest.


     Here for the last two days the Earth Point hasn't been seen very much 
either. Only coming in and out of the Healing Hand now and then, and mostly into 
and out of the room that Nanashi has been held in. Much like Shuyin, she has not 
been idle these past few days. She's been getting things ready and now that the 
time has come she waits for the sound of the Simurgh facade to go off before 
lowering her head the rest of the way into the ground and moving across the gap, 
right for the Winterheart side. She doesn't go all the way over, instead she's 
just getting close, trying to judge how many are where this close to things by 
the vibrations they make. A good deal are trolling about (no doubt because of 
something Shuyin's been doing) and right now she wishes more than anything she 
could get some sort of communication with him. She'll hope that he gets people 
started up, fired up and ready for a charge. They need to be closer.
     Celes turns and begins heading for the Points that are visible and Nanashi. 
When she gets there she only just pokes her head up in front of them. "Get 
everyone that's going to fight ready." And down she goes again.
Long distance to Harada: Tai'en waves, uber-belatedly.
From afar, Harada tosses you koko wa reenwood. so tired. x.x *curls up on your 
head*



Winterheart made an attempt on Nanashi's life. They succeeded.
     Then again, it seems what the public doesn't know, does not hurt them.

 For example -- if the people of Middleton continued to believe Nanashi was dead, 
they would be fighting a downhill battle. It does not matter if he was not their 
military leader. It does not matter if he would be alive within a week's time. 
He was a figurehead. Leader of the entire town and Priest of Simurgh. Victory 
would have been within Winterheart's grasp...

Save for this clever little ploy.

Of course, they received wind of it. Winterheart is not without /their/ spies 
after all, and hearing of the event, it was just a simple matter to organize 
something... greater. It was a secret divulged only to the captains, so not 
something that would be easily filtered to Middleton if at all. Elites -- 
handpicked by the General himself -- dressed in civilian's clothes, left the 
Winterheart temporary base of operations some time ago. Since then, it was a 
simple matter, to get past the guards and filter into the crowds. Disguised as 
citizens, no one would be any the wiser. They all spread out evenly amongst the 
people gathered here today. Spread out strategically, but even moreso, to cloak 
themselves in more thoroughly. To prepare.
     The last of them to come arrives at the tail end of 'Nanashi's' speech. He 
arrives late on purpose, just in case. Dressed in tattered robes, he sifts past 
the others in order to get closer in. He does not say anything. Not until that 
speech is over, at least. He has time... and he'll wait, until it's ripe.


     As Nanashi emerges, the crowd goes silent, turning to face him--whether 
gathered in the area before, or on any surface available, be it hanging from the 
windows of nearby houses or piled on the roof, a sea of faces turns toward their 
Mayor. There's a few ragged cheers from some of the more fanatical members of 
the audience, but those die down quickly, to be replaced by an attentive hush--
and there's nothing quite so intimidating as having a large number of people 
doing nothing but hanging on your words.
     Successful words, though--and perhaps the visible evidence of Simurgh's 
favor helped. As his aura flares up, as the four-winged spectral bird enfolds 
him, the citizens nearest to the front gasp for a moment and step back--and then 
another cheer goes up, this one quickly hushed by those who want to hear what 
remains to be said. On the final word, there's a moment of silence--and then the 
entire sea bursts into cheers, shouts of "Yes!" and "I am!" conflicting and 
crossing and bouncing off the walls until the air is thick with assent. Slowly, 
it begins to resolve itself into a chant: "MIDDLETON! MIDDLETON! FOR SIMURGH!"



Mirage as Nanashi has done her part. One hand comes up to the obvious, if fake, 
injury and the other tightens on the healer recruited to be an assistant for the 
nearly disabled leader. The moment of 'pain' passes quickly and he gestures to 
the Point Guard members on the stage with him, as if saying it's their time 
before nudging the healer to take him back to the Healing Hands to recover. He 
did his part. Let the fighters battle now. And hopefully, Miri can get out of 
sight before someone take a potshot.



Those elites had better be good. Tokaki's watching the crowd now. Mirage did her 
part admirably well, so he needs spare no concentration against her possible 
deception. When the moment comes to strike, he can move quick. Until that time, 
he's watching the crowd. It'd be tough for anyone to get close to Mirashi 
unnoticed. There was no predetermined 'stage' to settle around in advance, and 
anyone forcing through the crowds too aggressively will be easily noted. No 
doubt some are very close indeed by now, but if the rest make too much effort 
pushing forward, they'll likely be noticed.

As the four-winged bird manifests, Tokaki lifts the coiled Dragonthorn Whip from 
his side, raising it up in the air. It's a symbol too, one of the weapons of the 
Point Guard. He doesn't chant, but he stands ready to take action. He's still 
waiting though, waiting for the final sign. Celes' warning means they have only 
minutes at most until it's time to strike... unless of course Winterheart acts 
first. In a way, the Byakkosei is hoping for exactly that. It would make things 
so much more convenient.

His weapon raised, the Wood point looks to his right, to the Fire Point standing 
to his side. He nods, and cocks his head slightly in silent inquiry. He'll let 
her move first for the two of them. After all, Tokaki's faster. Or so he thinks 
at least.



     There is one person fairly obviously pushing there way to the front. Logans 
not exactly being polite about it, his inner trouble-dar telling him what evers 
going to happen is going to happen soon. Especially given the effect of 
Nanashi's speech on the crowd, who are now breying for Winterheart blood. Not 
that Logan blames them.. he's only been here a few months, and he certainly 
wants to kill 'em. Of course, he's slightly more blood thirsty then most. But 
he's determined to be as close to Tokaki (who's as likely as anyone to be the 
center of trouble) when everything goes down.
     So, as politely as Logan ever is, he makes his way towards the front of the 
crowd. Not that anyone really notices the odd elbow or shove in all the 
adulation the crowds pouring out right now. "Didn't know the blind coot had it 
in 'im. But all he's gotta do now is point... an' bad things are gonna happen."


     Smiling faintly, Tai'en nods at Mirage. Whatever her purpose in doing all 
this, she's done it remarkably well--and now the time to take the fight to the 
soldiers is at hand. Meeting Tokaki's glance, she nods back in return, and steps 
forward. Drawing her sword, she raises it in the air, the steel length bursting 
into flame that licks down her arm to surround her in a blaze of fire. She'd 
activate her anima, but that lingers for quite a while; she might want to sneak 
in by another route. Maybe. "People of Middleton!" she calls, projecting her 
voice to carry across the crowd. "The Priest of Simurgh has spoken! Those who 
will fight, ready yourselves and step forth! Those who would help but cannot 
fight, follow behind to help the wounded! Those who would have nothing to do 
with the fight, leave now!" As part of the crowd shuffles forward, armed with 
whatever they had on them, she directs her gaze and her voice toward them. 
"Gather all those who would strike back, and head through the back-alleys, the 
secret ways and the hidden passages that you know, from all the districts. Do 
not attack in the open--lure them into traps, into alleys and close grounds 
where their guns will have little advantage. Kill them, and do not let them 
reclaim their dead--this is a fight for your home, and they must be shown that 
invaders will not be tolerated! We will take them down!"
     Less organized than she could wish, and there's probably going to be a lot 
of dead before the day is through... but hopefully, numbers will prevail. 
There's only so much one can do with a bunch of civilians, and this many people, 
in this small a space. Although Arvind would probably still laugh at her for 
fighting a war like this, she reflects resignedly, before turning back to Tokaki. 
"Right then, let's go."


Shuyin arrives near the rear of the group behind the ones he's been tailing... 
he, at least, is aware of one thing that lets him keep track of his quarry... 
the taste of their hearts. Kind of hard to keep a murderous bent under wraps 
with a change of underwear, and Shuyin is oh so very familiar with that 
particular flavor.

But if Pride is expecting his little plan to go off without a hitch, he's sadly 
mistaken.... because there's a reason Pride is a sin. It's because it makes you 
do silly silly things because you think you can't be beaten. Like...oh... take 
this lovely little exercise, for example! Shuyin stalks through the crowd, 
grinning to himself, his eyes closed... people move out of his way because...hey, 
it's Metal! And he's nuts! But the wraith is navigating by soul, and it's so 
very easy to pick out the scarlet and black and tarnished brass amongst the 
green and silver that way. (It's a good thing there isn't a cart in the middle 
of the square, though, or he'd probably walk right into it.) Ah, so they're all 
here... let's just casually meander toward the one that feels like he's in 
charge. Casually.

The herd of sheep can conceal more than the wolves... they can conceal the 
sheepherder. Here, doggy doggy... o/~



     Celes knows those steps up there. She looks to the ground above her. 
Shuyin's on the move. A grin crosses her face and she comes up behind him, 
whispering. "We're almost ready. Anything wrong here?" She also looks through 
the crowd to see if there is a vantage point where she can find Tai'en and 
Tokaki, not to mention Mirage. She can just make out the top of Tokaki's head 
when a group of people in the crowd drop down a little before jumping up in a 
cheer. "Anyway, get ready."
     If nothing else is said she's going to drop back down and begin moving to 
the edge of the barricade so she can get ready to give Winterheart what for. 
However, if Shuyin makes mention of the people moving through the crowd she's 
going to alter her course and move quickly to let Tokaki, Tai'en, and Mirage 
know about it.



Actually, Pride is a Sin because an alchemical genius made his body through a 
complex 'attempt' at recreating life and then fed him plenty of Red Stones to 
make him grow big and strong and undying.
     Close, though.

If Shuyin is searching by soul, though, he's not going to find their leader. 
Because King Bradley? Distinctly lacks one of those. It doesn't matter, however. 
Even as Shuyin meanders, the General and his men are ready. Here is the 
advantage between insanity and calmness. Calmness, you can do what you need to 
do, and do it quickly. Of course -- it doesn't help to be completely prepared 
for this scenario.

The speech has ended, though. That is the men's signal. As soon as it is over, 
all those elite soldiers, all throughout the crowds? All begin to pull out... 
horns. Yes, horns. Each one, save for Pride himself, still secreted away in the 
crowds. Those soldiers, perform one simple action in what might be a suicide 
mission. They press those horns to their lips... and they blow.

One horn might not be loud enough. Which is why /all/ of them sound off at the 
same time, issuing a loud, blaring call throughout the masses of people. That's 
it. There are no explosions, no blatantly obvious attacks made.

That will be coming soon, when the whole of Winterheart's remaining forces here 
begin to invade on these men's signal. With the mighty call of the horn.



The Nanashi impersonator reaches his hand to a nearby wall as Miri gets away 
from the obvious target area after those horns. "Go. I can make my way. I know 
you're needed more by others." he assures his helper as he continues to use 
false weakness to gather a way to guide his blind self. If the helper buys it, 
as soon as Mirage judges that she's gotten out of sight, she'll become herself 
again and make a break for All God's Temple. It seems the most likely place to 
survive whoever wins. If not, she'll stay with the help until getting back to 
Healing Hands. It's the second safest place, right?


     The cheers continue unabated, even as Mirashi leaves the "stage" and the 
Points begin to carry out their plan. The people in the crowd begin to separate, 
each according to their purpose, and to move with new purpose and determination-
-
     Until the horns call their song of summoning.
     The enthusiastic shouts die as though each horn had been a bullet, the 
unwitting citizens whirling to face the soldiers--or traitors, perhaps; in their 
nondescript clothes, it's difficult to tell--who thus reveal themselves. Shouts 
of determination turn into shouts of anger or fear, variously; the more hot-
headed citizens throw themselves at the soldiers, seeking to knock the horns out 
of their hands, or to knock them down themselves. Those who panicked to find 
Winterheart's own among them shrink back, at first, but then appear to hesitate 
for a moment before surging forward with renewed vigor and fervor. There's only 
a few, right? They can't possibly hope to stand before the fury of them all--and 
then onward, to Promenade!
     Except that the Promenade is coming toward them.
     At the sound of the horns, the soldiers of Winterheart make their own 
charge. In a trickle, at first, then in a torrent--and there, they turn the Fire 
Point's advice on its head, utilizing the small spaces and cover for themselves, 
to stem and manage the flow of angry fighters that come toward them. They have 
their guns, but they use them sparingly, only to pick off the chargers and those 
distant before closing for hand-to-hand combat.
     The assistant healer recruited for the purpose hesitates as Mirashi 
dismisses him. "But--they're attacking--" In good conscience, he can't leave 
someone so obviously weak alone--and then a moment later, the question is taken 
out of his hands as someone drops not two feet away. He hesitates again, but the 
need of the wounded pulls him away, and he nods before rushing over to help the 
fallen.


Sometimes, things go wrong. Things go horribly wrong and in completely 
unexpected ways.

Because of that, Tokaki doesn't much like plans. Preparations are always good - 
one does not train as hard as the Byakkosei does without genuine love of 
preparing, of training for the future. In the heat of battle though, the best 
laid plans can only straightjacket someone like Tokaki.

Still, plans are great for before the battle starts. Just as a certain sneaky-
type informed them, the soldiers were here and planning something. Thanks to 
those plans, Tokaki now knows where the real threat is coming from. And ... 
thanks to setting up, to having a plan, Tokaki's ready for them. The Seishi 
looks at Tai'en and smiles slightly as the horns are sounded... and leaves them 
to her. He's got a bigger target. Heck, he's got an ARMY to meet. Turning, 
fixing his gaze in the near distance, Tokaki disappears entirely. No eye-
blurring motion this time... this time, he calls upon his full powers.

Only to reappear some distance away, silvery light flashing on a rooftop along 
the projected course of the greatest attacking force. There he sits and waits. 
He doesn't have to wait long. They may spot the light, but he doesn't care. He's 
a bad target to try to hit, and he's up high away from the enemy force. And here, 
he's ready. Here he's set the ambush point. It was just a house once, before he 
went to work on it earlier this day. Now, it's a deathtrap. Loaded with wood and 
splintery death. When the soldiers reach him, they'll meet wave after wave of 
flying wooden shards and larger spears and logs of wooden death.

Yes, sometimes things go wrong. The soldiers don't come in a solid wave... but 
other than that, Tokaki's quite happy with the way his counter-trap goes down.



Shuyin had no plans. Plans never work. The biggest plan he had got him killed. 
(The second plan he had got him severely abused and handed off to his 
girlfriend.) Frankly, Shuyin's abandoned this whole "plan" thing as just a giant 
cosmically BAD IDEA.

Even as the horns of the invaders are dying away, the blond is jumping up on a 
low wall, slamming the Paws together with a resounding /CLANG/ (nevermind they 
weren't in his hands a second ago) and then waves them toward the crowd in 
encouraging fashion. "Fight for your city!" the Metal Point bellows, enforcing 
his words with all his strength, seeking to amplify the ferocious emotions of 
the citizens. "They don't deserve your fear, only your fury! They're weak and 
desperate, this is your chance to purge them from your lands! OBLITERATE THEM 
ONCE AND FOR ALL!" ...Er...sorry, he's having a wee bit of a flashback there.

Anyway.

Gathering himself, the wraith leaps off the wall and into the burgeoning tide of 
the mob, letting himself be carried along toward one of the venues the attackers 
are using... not the one that Wood Point has turned into a splintery blender, 
but one where the constant hail of fire is pushing back the defenders. Hide 
gleaming, the wraith charges forth with a renewed surge behind him, unafraid of 
fire or sword. Hell, he's not even afraid of the damn rocket launchers, though 
he's sure learned to duck the infernal machina.



     So the army cometh.

     Arcia sits down behind her wall, making sure she has a good eye on her 
route of escape. Nobody should try to come up to the top of this building, and 
if someone even does make it up here, she can just pull grenades and explosives 
and just blow the place to hell. Checking her ammunition in the first rifle, she 
takes deep, even breaths. The first person she hits has to be their leader. She 
has to wait for him to show himself. No mistakes can be made-- one shot, and 
that's his end.

     Scooting up into a crouch, her rifle's barrel pointed downward, she turns 
and peers carefully over the edge of the rooftop, waiting for him to present 
himself as a target. With enough chaos going on as the people scuttle and 
cluster here and there, it makes picking him out of the crowd a little difficult. 
A tall man with an eyepatch and a mustache, was he? Hmm...



     Who was it who said that plans are great, up until the exact moment when 
the battle joins? Or some variant thereof. Tai'en can't remember, and really 
it's probably been said by many people, in many different ways.
     Some variant thereof, as it were, flashes through her mind as she catches 
sight of the first spill of soldiers charging from their side of the town. Using 
the environment is supposed to be the Middleton side's shtick, not theirs!--but 
really, she has no time to get indignant about it. Even as Tokaki blurs away, 
and Shuyin exhorts the people to fight, she exhales and lets the fire framing 
her die down, and resheathes the Red Feather Sword. Closing her eyes, she 
mutters to herself for a moment before beginning to channel the Essence out of 
herself. Never mind that bit about sneaking, now--this is going to be loud, and 
this is going to be flashy.



     Things are going to hell, but at the same time while Winterheart makes the 
first attack a failure, the horns are bringing the army right into their trap so 
that when they march on and things begin happening, Celes comes behind the 
people that had been coming toward Tokaki and grins. She has her shield but her 
sword is not drawn and there is a reason for that. Her ring glows, the Gem Box 
active, and her mouth moves. Her hands glow, one yellow and the other red.
     Much like Tai'en this isn't going to be subtle, this is going to be loud, 
bodies are going to be flying every which way, and there are going to be a lot 
of booms and flashes of light.
     She finishes up and her hands go shooting out, pointing at the soldiers as 
they likely turn. Her first spell, targeted at all of them in the area that 
Tokaki's attack can't reach first notice the sky above them begin to darken some 
as bolts of lightning come shooting down at them, drawn to any metal they might 
have, and then among them small spheres of red appear before flaring up into 
gouts of flame to burn away those that are hurt by the lightning and not left 
dead by it.
     Now Celes draws her sword.



So the troops come, just as anticipated. Whether by both sides is irrelevant. 
What is relevant is that Winterheart sieges /first/, and even if some are 
aware... the element of surprise is still theirs.

In war, that is a crucial element.

The man who does not move, even as the masses all rush towards their invaders, 
their enemies, knows well enough about this. Slowly, he pulls his hood back from 
his face, to reveal /exactly/ what Arcia is looking for. A man with black hair. 
An eyepatch, and a mustache. A general, calm air flows about Pride as he settles 
back. He has only brought two swords with him today, to avoid any intense 
suspicion. His elites? They fight well enough, disabling and killing some of 
those who assault them. But numbers are against his men. They knew this from the 
start. They're swiftly taken over, even as the troops come marching in...

Even as Bradley's gaze settles calmly on Tai'en.

A single sword is drawn. She has appeared before him as the seeming leader of 
this entire, ill-founded resistance, and as such -- she is his target for today. 
That sword gleams in the light of day, even as Tai'en prepares for something. 
And he has every intent, to simply LUNGE at her and impale her through the chest 
-- lest some errant shot get in his way, of course.



     If Tokaki wants to meet the army, the army will meet him.
     Perhaps in bits and pieces, by the time they get to him, but.
     Although they do not arrive en masse, enough spot him in his distinctive 
Point garb and direct their fellows' attention to him that the same effect is 
nearly achieved. Some of them take a few potshots at him, but the rest simply 
decide that he's too difficult to reach, up there, and that they have better 
targets to be getting and move on by--only to find out that they're sorely, 
sadly mistaken, as the pieces of wood come flying at them, propelled by nothing 
but air and the will of the wielder of the Whip. The first stream are taken down 
easily, caught off-guard; the next a little less so, and those behind manage to 
largely duck the first wave, taking cover behind stone or using their own gifts 
to shield themselves.
     Although the wording of Shuyin's speech is a little bloodier than what the 
Middleton citizens are used to, the message is taken to heart--in no small part 
aided by his pushings at their spirits and emotions. They scream in agreement, 
surging forward to meet the invaders. Impassioned hearts are met with bullets, 
though, adn the first rank goes down swiftly--but there are more behind, and 
anger and pride fuel their legs and their arms. Some of those, awakened to their 
Persona, wield them in battle with magical force; others, the mercenaries or the 
young men and women turning toward the mercenary path use simply their force of 
arm and knowledge of weapons, be they swords and crossbows or guns or a simple 
kitchen knife.



Tokaki is very difficult to reach, behind his shelter of wood. And it's hard to 
aim when someone's filling the air with splinters besides. The Whip lashes again 
and again, each lash causing an explosion which directs shards of wood in a very 
convenient fashion. Well, convenient for the Point Guard. Somewhat inconvenient 
for the soldiers. Having caught a number of them, a number of the soldiers down 
- dead or mauled - he's stalled a portion of the advance. But others keep on 
coming. And brave Middleton freedom fighters are getting cut down. Well, he's 
the Point Guard. It's his job to make their efforts count, to defend the people. 
The plan was to stay behind his barricade and mow down the soldiers as they 
tried to advance. Well... screw the plan.

Blurring form his perch, Tokaki takes a few quick steps and is suddenly in the 
middle of a group of nearby gunmen. They don't even have time to register the 
cessation of his splintery onslaught. It slows, stops, and suddenly they face an 
onslaught of a different kind. Whip-cracks sound, faster and faster, as he 
lashes the air to throw the aim of the soliders off. Then he turns the Whip on 
the soldiers themselves, maiming with every thorned lash.



     The energy rises about her, glowing golden, her aura flaring in response--
she's not bothering to pull from her personal pools of energy right now, as what 
would be the point?--and then someone's pulling their hood back and drawing a 
sword and lunging /right at her/. Eyes going wide, she reflexively moves to 
dodge, urged instinctively by a greater power to spin on one foot, letting the 
sword just barely sail by her chest, passing through air instead of through rib 
to meet heart. It's only with a tenacious stubbornness that she hangs onto the 
reins of the spell, continuing her murmuring--but she does step back smartly, 
watching the General warily.
     Forgive her for not greeting you properly, but she has other things 
occupying her attention just now--the people need the results of this spell more 
than she needs her immediate attention on the next few seconds. Or so she thinks.



     Celes pushes enemy forces back toward Tokaki while taking care of those 
that decide to stray away from him and head back toward her. If only they 
weren't fighting in the city she could use her larger powers as a Point. However, 
this isn't a perfect world, so she has to make do with what she's given, and 
make do she does. Her sword enters the ground and vibrations begin, growing 
stronger and stronger until they are enough to make a person lose balance in the 
immidiate area if they don't have anything to hold on to. That should give 
Tokaki a better chance and handling things in this area. Her job finished Celes 
goes to the ground once more, going under, since Tokaki is very effectively 
keeping that entrance into the Middleton grounds closed to everything. She needs 
to get to the other side and figure out where she can best put her efforts to 
use now. Tokaki has that one, Shuying probably has the other, he doesn't know 
what Tai'en's doing (probably spellcasting). Once she gets to the other side she 
will assess her situation.



Yes, Shuyin is leading a sizable portion of Middleton's population to either 
death or a good wounding. BUT. It's not like the favor isn't being returned, and 
then some. The wraith has long since realized that dying -here- isn't usually 
very permanent...which led him to no small amount of anger and frustration when 
Winterheart's people kept coming back. But now, what used to madden him is a 
comfort, the firm belief that no matter who falls /now/... before long, they 
will return again... better to die and return to a free homeland than live on in 
beaten slavery!

Though actually, right now Shuyin isn't really thinking about /anything/ aside 
from cresting the tidal wave of infuriated humanity (and a few others, here and 
there) behind him. This isn't a tactical strike, there's no finesse... much, 
anyway. What this is, is a maddened and vengeful wave cresting the first 
positions of the soldiers, and spilling over on top of them. At the apogee of 
the wave is the Metal Point himself, swinging away with his trademark unholy 
glee, urging those behind him to simply lay waste to any Winterheartlike thing 
in their way. Subtle? Er. Not.



     The crowd is insane and chaotic, Middleton native versus Winterheart 
invader. The man reveals himself, however, and Arcia is quick to spot the man 
after he drops his cloak and readies the sword he carries at his hip. The rifle 
tips up with her finger over the trigger guard, her eye squinting closed and 
gazing through the magnifying scope toward the man who would be her target. 
Slowly, the finger slides to the trigger as the man charges toward Tai'en. A 
moving shot, let alone a shot meant to kill, would be quite difficult to plant 
with someone that moves so quickly.

     The girl's aim adjusts quickly, the rifle moving appropriately and her eye 
refocusing to keep a good bead on the man as he goes. Her breathing is 
controlled, her emotions are calm.

     A Maiden of the Silver does not allow emotion to turn violent.

     The trigger is squeezed gently, hugged in and setting off the chain 
reaction of firing pin to bullet casing to the gunpowder reaction and a single, 
explosive-head bullet screaming through the air in a high-speed spiral that 
moves at a few thousand feet per second.

     An explosive head bullet, that is, meant to strike Winterheart Milistii 
High General King Bradley just below the neck.



Ah. A hair's breath. What a pity. It doesn't matter, though. He'll get her on 
the next one. There is only so much concentration one can focus into multiple 
things during a stressful situation before they make a mistake. And Bradley? He 
has /time/ on his side. And time is not an ally to Tai'en, at this point in time. 
So even as she moves to the side? The Priest of Osprey is quick to recover, 
pivoting on a heel and repositioning his sword, twisting it to point DIRECTLY at 
Tai'en. This time? The center of the chest. Something a bit harder to avoid.
     His legs tense. There is no emotion on his face...
     As he /lunges/ right at Tai'en--
     Only to receive a bullet to the neck with an explosive BANG!
     His eye widens. His pupil dilates, his mouth sagging open as the last 
pulses of life beat through him. He dies quickly enough; he has no armor-plated 
exterior, after all. He falls to the ground, motionless, with a meaty thud, 
blood pouring from the wound, the front of his body a mess. His sword slips out 
of his grasp with a clatter. Winterheart's General... is dead. A long moment 
passes with silence. But then--

"How dishonorable!"
     The voice is cracked, but that's what happens when your throat has been 
damaged by explosive rounds. Besides.
     The sword being chucked straight at Tai'en's chest makes up for it.

He rises. That wound? Energy begins to wash over it, a matrix of cells that 
reknits into bone, muscle, skin, all at record-breaking speed. "And here I was 
hoping... we could fight with swords, and not with snipers!" His voice crackles, 
but recovers, even as the man himself? Smiles, so very widely.



     Somewhat inconvenient. Especially when the wood shards lodge in especially 
inconvenient spots, that do things like send them crashing down or reeling back, 
eyes staring blankly at nothing, or sometimes just smash them into the sides of 
the buildings. The Wood Point does an effective job of taking out a good chunk 
of them, even before they crash into the wave of Middleton fighters heading 
straight toward them.
     The sound is titanic. Steel strikes steel, or wood, or flesh, and the cries 
and screams as weapons fly home--or worse, miss only slightly--fill the air, 
compounded by the rumble as the Earth Point works her magic, sending the 
charging Winterheart soldiers off their feet, or stumbling to their knees. It 
knocks a few of the more forward Middletoners off their feet as well, but with 
little harm--anyone in the area likely to hit them are fighting for their 
balance, too. Though, moments later, both sides fully meet, the chaos spreading 
to fill the street and overflowing onto the side-streets, as soldiers duck into 
them for cover and the citizens pursue. Anyone trying to meet the maddened wave 
head-on is swiftly swept off their feet, as more than a few discover to their 
sorrow, much less those who would confront Wood or Metal, raging through the 
soldiers and darting from one to the next--though those who attempt to run from 
Tokaki generally find him waiting for them, and those escaping from Metal that 
those maces reach much further than they thought.
     Celes, when she pokes her head up on the other side of the barricades, 
would find much of the formerly-occupied quarters echoingly empty. It seems that 
all of the forces have indeed been poured into the attack--although there are a 
few sentries, keeping watch on the rear of the battle in case someone should 
sneak up from behind, and glad enough to do so and avoid being at the front.



     Quick to recover he might be, but a few seconds are all she needs to finish 
shaping the spell and casting it out into the air. Her voice rises to a shout 
that seems to ring oddly as she thrusts her hands in the air. Fine webs of power, 
invisible save to those with the eyes to see it, streak outward for miles.
     At first, there seems to be no response... but in a few minutes, the 
results become obvious. The first to arrive are the rats. Streaming out of every 
crevice and hole, they swarm toward the Winterheart soldiers, climbing up legs 
and biting whatever tender spots they can reach, or leaping from windows onto 
passing faces and savaging whatever their tiny claws and teeth find. As a lethal 
force, they're not much--but as distraction, they're golden.
     The next to come are the smaller domestic animals. Cats, dogs, birds--from 
sleek, pampered housecats to slat-ribbed alley dogs to the geese meant for the 
market and the fat pigeons that inhabit every city, they come in answer to her 
spell. They join the rats, working together to take down the enemy, savaging 
ankles or joints until the soldiers can be taken down and ended.
     Finally come the larger animals, the ones not normally within the city 
boundaries: plowhorses and, far rarer, war chargers, bulls and cows, goats, 
snakes, hedgehogs, wolves, birds of prey, the occasional bobcat, all those 
pulled from the surrounding farmlands; and stranger ones, summoned from the very 
fringes of her range, touching almost on the Darkwood to the south and the 
Knifewind Sands to the west. These pile into the fray, as well, though they 
arrive much later.
     Tai'en doesn't have the time to see the results of her spell, though. As 
soon as she casts the lines of power out, she snaps back to the now. There is 
someone trying to kill her, and that does require some attention. Another quick 
flare of Essence, and she moves to dodge that blade, as well, riding the 
crackling energy and depending on it to guide her out of the way--
     Although, it seems there's no need for the Charm, as the bullet strikes 
home before her eyes.
     Pausing, she looks back along the probable route, eyes narrowing... before 
she can't help but laugh. Broadly. How ironic. And yet she can't help but feel a 
little disappointed--here she was preparing to go all-out against him, and 
someone else gets to take the chance before she does...
     Except that it seems that won't be the case. As the skin and bone reknit 
right before her eyes, she keeps the broad cheese-eating grin on her face only 
with effort. Tilting her head and cocking a brow, she shakes her head in 
demurral. "Not my idea, actually--but not for want of desire, I assure you. 
Perhaps for the best--it seems somewhat less than effective," she remarks 
casually. Drawing the largest sword from her back, she salutes ironically, 
wielding the blade as tall as she as though it weighed no more than the feathers 
braided into her hair. "If it's a battle with swords you want, though, I am 
happy to oblige you ... Bradley, isn't it?"



     Through the ground the Earth Point comes from outside the barricades and 
the battle out there. Her part there is done, now it is her part in here she 
must do.
     Celes isn't surprised when she rises out of the ground as though it were 
water to see that most of the fighting has left the main area. Most, that is, 
because her attention focuses on Tai'en and Pride going at it now, finally. Her 
friend moves, and casts her spell. The effects are seen, but Celes pays them no 
mind, instead charging toward the two that are about to be locked in combat. She 
fears that she might not get there in time, that Tai'en might end up slain, or 
as more likely is the case, take all the fun from it
     And someone else does it. Celes comes to a halt and tilts her head, looking 
up at Tai'en with a shrug on her shoulders. "Guess I wasn't nee--" Pride's 
getting up? Celes, though somewhat shocked and horrified by this feat, tilts her 
head in curiosity. Well, that's certainly not a trick she knew he could do. "I 
stand corrected."
     Sword out and ready Celes begins her final approach toward Pride and the 
Fire Point.



An interesting display of power. Alas, it seems that the General was a touch to 
late to stop the woman from launching off that rather interesting bit of... 
magic? Whatever nonsense it is, though, his focus is on her now. Their leader, 
one he will be sure to put down. And do it... without the slightest of 
hesitations.

Animals stampede through his troops, but they will be able to reorganize through 
the chaos. At this distance, there's not much the General can do for them -- 
save to eliminate the very source of the magic that inspired this rather unique, 
rather foolish assault. Bradley spreads his legs, shoulder-length apart, getting 
into a more comfortable and combat ready position. The tip of his blade points 
at Tai'en, even as she speaks. His other hand rests against the edge of the 
blade, poising it at the ready. It gleams in the light, polished -- waiting to 
be dulled by the blood of his enemy.

Of Tai'en.

"Bradley it is."

He moves forward at startling speed, a blur amongst the daylight as he thrusts 
out his side. A simple maneuver, and ungodly fast, meant to bite into her left 
shoulder and quickly withdraw before he moves past. The /strength/ he puts 
behind it, though -- that is where the real problem lies. Strength enough to 
easily shatter bone, cut through stone like butter. Strength of the Priest of 
Osprey.
     "Though I have to apologize for not knowing your name, Fire Point!" He's 
never much been interested... in the names of arrogant, dead fools.



     Well, she never expected him to, of course, -not die-. Arcia blinks with 
wide-eye and great depths of surprise, the damage that was dealt healed and his 
fight now clearly with Tai'en. With the proximity, it would be too risky to take 
another shot like that-- just yet. Arcia frowns and sets the rifle aside, 
plucking up the next weapon-- the three round burst variety-- and opts to fire 
it in the direction of Ye Olde Winterheart Army folks. It's pretty easy to tell 
who is who at this height and angle. Hell, being a Middleton native has it's 
advantages, as well. With an unbelievable level of calm, the rifle reports a 
rat-a-tat-tat, rat-a-tat-tat from target to target.



     The joining of the animals in the fray initially unnerves and startles more 
than a few of the Winterheart soldiers, but true ot form, they recover from 
their surprise and strike back--what are a few domestic animals to the creatures 
of the Winterheart tundra, after all? Except that there are more than a few, and 
they work together methodically, efficiently, with a level of cooperation never 
seen before between cat and dog, wolf and sheep. Even so, they are only animals 
still; against determined foes armed with real weapons and years of experience, 
they find their match. If anything, the tide almost unnerves the Middleton side 
more, unused to seeing Fido and that alley cat that always peed in the 
flowerpots fighting alongside them. Spurred by the work of Shuyin, though, they 
surge forward--and both sides take renewed vigor at the sight of their leaders 
(or at least somewhat leader figures) facing each other, as well.



     She should be out there with them. She feels the call of the spell, tugging 
at her to join the animals in the assault, directing them as they fight--but she 
resists, for now. Perhaps she is not at the forefront, but she is in the battle 
as well, and the tides of it are sweeping toward them, the clash spreading and 
losing cohesiveness from the initial meeting of the lines. Her fight is here--
and fortunately, she isn't alone in it, as she spies Celes approaching over 
Bradley's shoulder. Flashing the White General a grin, she tilts her head at 
Bradley and drawls, "What do you think, too little of a challenge for us both, 
or just enough to give a brief workout of the arm?"
     She doesn't have long to be so flippant, though; in a breath, he's on her, 
without the time or a moment of relative peace to work Flows Like Blood. Seven 
Shadow Evasion flows to the surface instead, pulling her smoothly away with a 
speed that matches Bradley's--one moment, she's in the path of his blade, and in 
the next moment, she's not, evading the blade like the shadows the Charm is 
named after. She doesn't dare simply attempt to dodge without a little help, not 
at the speed at which he moves; the one taste she'd had of his strength, in 
their first, brief clash, had left her hands numb and her arms shaking. She can 
match his speed; she knows she can't match his strength, not without a few 
uninterrupted seconds to work. And that seems in precious short supply.
     "No need to apologize; I've never been in the habit of giving it out to 
lackeys," she says casually, and draws her blade back. "I might," and a swift 
swing, aimed at his side and meant to simply chop clean through him, a brief 
flow of Essence trailing along the blade to grant added lethality should it 
strike, "choose to grant it to you once you are defeated, though."



     Arcia's not the only one that never expected Bradley to come back from the 
dead that quickly. At first she thinks he might well have something similar to 
the gift she's seen so many Phoenix chosen carry, but the way it looks is 
different. He didn't just come back to life; it's as if he hasn't been hurt at 
all. This, not surprisingly, shakes Celes a little. However she recovers quickly 
enough to press on the final distance to the fight, jumping up the slight 
elevation to their level and just behind Bradley. The grin is returned and she 
shrugs like it were a morning jog. "We -might- actually break a sweat."
     As he turns his focus to Tai'en Celes uses the time granted to call upon a 
little magic. She uses her Gem Box one more time, but doesn't dare consider 
using it again, already strapped for magical strength from the beginning of the 
battle and those before it. Though she needs this, especially seeing his display 
of speed. Naturally her first spell cast is a haste spell. Now she'll be able to 
keep up with Pride for at least a while. It's her second spell that is meant to 
take Pride.
     Not pulling any punches, as the Haste spell comes into effect her chanting 
continues for a few seconds longer as she begins the final parts of her attack. 
Just buy a little time. Haste might help her a bit, but it's a pretty long spell 
no matter how you look at it.
     The air temperature begins to lower noticeably.



Match his speed? She can't dodge forever, though. Tai'en severely overestimates 
both her own abilities, and underestimates the abilities of her opponent. She'll 
realize that soon enough, of course. He is not unaware of his surroundings; that 
would be foolhardy. There's another behind him, but even so... he offers Tai'en 
and Tai'en alone a pleasant smile, one that squints that cyan eye completely 
shut.
     "Please don't disappoint me!" And before Celes actually makes her reply... 
his eye cracks open, even as he pulls off that black eyepatch.
     "Both of you."

Tai'en moves just past his blade, but it doesn't bother Bradley nearly so much. 
The simple reason is -- he's recovered with incredible swiftness. The sword 
strike was fast, but could have been faster. She can match his speed; can she 
match his strength, his endurance, his lifespan? Let's find out. She speaks, but 
he makes no response. Instead, even before that sword comes close to striking 
him?
     His blade has clashed against it, stopping it dead. He can see these things, 
you know...

"Oho!"
     And with one fluid motion, his other blade slices forward to stab the woman 
through her side. It's fast, coming immediately after his parry; meant to hold 
her there by her sword with his incredible strength while the other blade kisses 
flesh, but noticeably avoids striking anywhere /fatal/. The change in 
temperature? Noticed, but there is not much to be done about it. For now, he 
simply smiles amiably at Tai'en, with squinted eyes.



     Celes works her magic; seeing the flows of--not quite Essence, but close 
enough--circulating through her, Tai'en moves to draw Pride's attention to 
herself. Although it hardly seems necessary, all things being equal; he already 
seems quite fixated on her, something she finds almost amusing, even as it's a 
little odd. No Seven Shadow Evasion this time, as the second blade comes toward 
her; instead, she shoves her blade inward and downward, sliding across the 
barrier of his first sword to smash into the incoming second stab, meant less to 
outright block it and more to use a force at right angles to the force of the 
stab to push it off-course, just enough to miss. She's not /quite/ swift enough, 
though--although it misses digging into her flesh, it slices a narrow gash above 
her ribs, opening a red line that soaks almost unnoticeably into the dark 
leather of her clothes. She gives no sign of it, though, beyond slightly 
narrowed eyes. Instead, she angles her sword around, swiftly, into a vertical 
slash upward, seeking to slit him from knee to neck.



     Concentrating on the spell Celes is pretty much helpless right now; a good 
thing Pride seems so intent on Tai'en right now and not her. But the distraction, 
however unintentional it might be, is welcomed and enough for her to finish the 
spell. The final words said, the magic releases from her to begin pushing change 
into reality. Particularly around Pride himself. Air temperature suddenly drops 
as though winter has come and been around for quite a while. And then it drops 
more, massive and thick ice formations coming into existence on either side of 
Pride and then moving a swift speeds together, seeking to crush the sin in-
between the two of them. However even with such powerful magic as this, the ice 
only moves so fast and Pride, sadly, is able to move faster. But the question to 
really ask is if he saw this coming or not.
     No matter if he did avoid or didn't, Celes forgets magic now and charges in, 
with sword ready for the attack. However, it's not her sword that will lead the 
attack. Rather it is a certain yellow shield that moves into position for her to 
attacks to come right now.



Fixated? Tai'en gives herself too much credit! Bradley is engaging in a simple 
enough strategy here. He does not /mind/ fighting two people at once, however... 
to make things faster, and more efficient, it is sometimes necessary to take out 
one side of the equation first and quickly. Though... it seems that Tai'en is 
being rather persistant in fighting. Good, good! It makes it all the more 
enjoyable. There is a laugh, a surprisingly good-natured one, as his sword is 
thrust downward -- but not nearly enough to avoid a strike. "You're rather good 
with a sword!" It's a compliment, even as he opens both eyes finally. Tai'en 
should be able to see his left eye, the distinct lack of a pupil, and iris. 
Instead, in it's place? The symbol of the Ourouborous, a serpant consuming 
itself, and within it's coils... a hexagram. The Ultimate Eye.

He can see these things. He sees the flow of air, slowing as it cools. He 
perceives things at a rate far faster than normal, to the point where Tai'en's 
vertical slash becomes so much slower than it should rightly be. Still. He'd 
like to prove a point. As the sword strike comes, he's already leaping. It 
carves into his right leg, moving up to the stomach before he is out of the way 
with a spray of crimson. But he only winces slightly, the wounds more shallow 
than they might have been. His leap takes him into the air, over those chunks of 
ice, so that when they slam together? He lands on top of them, for the briefest 
of seconds. "Humph!" And then... he leaps a moment after.

Right behind Tai'en.

When he lands, directly behind her, he spins with lightning swiftness. One sword 
lances downward, to the her left calf. The other slides straight forward, aiming 
through her left shoulderblade.



     "You damn me with faint praise," the Exalt says dryly, even as her slash 
catches, though not so deeply as she could have wished. The eye thus revealed is 
glanced at with momentary curiosity. "My, what strange eyes--or eye, I suppose I 
should say--you have, master Bradley! The better to view invaded lands with, I 
suppose?" The reaper daiklave follows him, arcing upward and passing just above 
the blocks of ice that smash together, carrying over her head and slamming into 
the ground behind her even as Pride leaps behind her and makes his strikes. But 
rather than be there, she opts to leave by the simple expedient of leaping, 
using her grip on the sword as a base as she simply backflips over the blade dug 
in the ground--and seeks to land on his shoulders, activating Graceful Crane 
Stance even as she unsheathes the smaller sword on her back and brings it down 
in an overhead slice toward his head.



     This might be a little tougher than they were expecting. He's faster than 
initially thought, and it's almost like he sees things coming before they happen. 
It would explain why Pride's reaction time is so ungodly. Still Celes is without 
choice in the matter. She moves around the blocks of ice even as they fall to 
the ground, sitting, utterly inert now. Her shield is out to ram into Pride's 
body as Tai'en comes down with her sword. Even if her shield doesn't connect 
solidly, it will at the least keep her moderately safe from those swords of his.
     Following with the shield bash, her sword comes forth, sneaking around her 
shield, with fluid grace in an attempt to ram the blade firmly, and most of the 
way, into the man's chest. There is no attempt at subduing, and there is 
certainly no attempt at pulling punches, Celes wants this man, Bradley, dead at 
her feet before they ship him back to Winterheart. "It's interesting, how you 
seem to react so quickly, Mister Bradley." She says. Her grin has yet to leave 
her face.



Ah, so graceful! So swift! But perhaps it hasn't yet sunk into Tai'en or Celes' 
heads yet... in a suicide attempt, King Bradley has ultimately more to gain.

He can see her coming, of course. She leaps through the air, and for all her 
speed, it would be simple to just move back... and let her land a little less 
gracefully on the ground. But it would be more in his benefit at the moment not 
to. So she lands, his strength of his unnatural body able to support her rather 
easily. She comes, swiping towards his head with that blade. And the very SECOND 
she does?
     The cold blades of both his weapons seek to sink into her thighs.
     Her blow connects, of course. A suicide maneuver, one that slits open his 
throat and sends a spray of blood. Celes bashes into Pride's body just about 
when he pulls his swords back with a gurgle, whether he connected or not., it's 
just more damage on a wound that will kill him in mere seconds. The chest stab 
is what kills him, staggering back and falling to the ground. A second, one, two, 
three...
     Four, five...
     Those fingers twitch.

With a leap, Pride seeks to get back onto his feet, blades at the ready. "Two." 
He states, almost thoughtfully. "Let us keep going, shall we?"



     Perhaps just a little tougher. Especially since he is apparently unkillable 
by sword or bullet--or rather, he can be put down, but pops up again within 
seconds. As Tai'en discovers (again), as her gambit works quite well--albeit 
with unexpected side effects. Slash comes down, splitting skull in twain; 
Pride's two swords come up, sliding through skin and muscle to strike bone. It's 
only through luck that the thighbones aren't simply shattered or the arteries 
severed, as the blades slide past to emerge from the other side.
     With a cry choked back at the last moment, Tai'en leaps away with effort, 
landing less than gracefully on the edge of the dais and going down to one knee. 
Clapping one hand over one of the holes poked so emphatically through her legs, 
she breathes in slowly. She's going to be sorely slowed, now--oh, she can push 
her body past the pain, but severed muscle simply won't respond as quickly as 
whole.
     She'd hoped, briefly, that cutting into his head would be unregeneratable, 
or whatever it is he does to recover so, but her hopes are proven empty in the 
next few seconds as he stands, hale and whole as ever. So. Perhaps she should 
fall back upon her strength: and so she remains where she is, head bowed for a 
moment as she begins to weave Essence once again. Your turn, Celes.



     A spray of blood from the neck of Pride and also from the legs of Tai'en. 
Naturally Pride's neck lets loose more, but still, she has a fairly red tint to 
her now, and as Pride falls and Tai'en moves to the side injured, Celes shifts 
herself so that she can move over to Tai'en. Is it over now? "I'll try healing 
as mu--" Dread words from a dread voice that she was expecting wouldn't speak 
again for a long while. Celes swallows, her grin finally fading and she turns to 
regard Pride. There isn't defeat in her features. Rather her expression is one 
of distant annoyance with deep thought hidden under it. Celes sighs. "We really 
need to fix this problem."
     Though it's different, Celes knows the feeling of magic being worked and 
looks over her shoulder slightly to see Tai'en deep in concentration. The 
general turns and grins again. Tai'en wants time to work her magic, time Celes 
will provide. "Round two, then?" Celes tilts her head to the side and then comes 
on. Her sword comes on in a quick motion, with a three-thrust formation, aiming 
for head, chest, and abdomen. Hopefully her Atlas Amulet will let her match 
Pride's strength.
     However, Celes is not without respect for him. "You're good, Bradley. It 
reminds me of a former commanding officer." Only she's pretty sure Leo would 
knock Pride down a peg or two.



When one has been born and bred for war, they grow to be a little more than 
'good.' It's all that Bradley has been exposed to. He knows when to take risks... 
and when not to. The lack of style that particular maneuver may have had is made 
up in sheer efficiency. Tai'en will not be moving nearly as fast as she did 
before, which leaves... Celes. Eyes squint shut as his head tilts to the side, 
grin wrinkling the corners of his lips. "Ah! Well then --" She comes rushing at 
him, intent to strike. Pride is strong, gaining strength from /two/ sources. But 
--

He also knows when to move.
     Something his is more than intent on doing, as Celes strikes at him with 
those thrusts. He moves swiftly, out of the way with a spin and amiable laughter 
that fills the air, warmth that seems out of place... as a single blade, the one 
in his right hand, sings forth to slice into her side before he moves away. To 
gain distance, and make her come to him. Tai'en? She's planning something, but 
he won't try to stop her. That wouldn't be quite /fair/, would it?



     The battle rages fiercely now, in one of the quarters that the Middleton 
side had come to claim as their own, in the uneasy demarcation that had ruled 
the town for the past week or so. Citizen fights against soldiers, Metal and 
Wood wreaking havoc in the distance, the animals of barn and house and street 
fighting alongside the Middleton citizens to take down the Winterheart opponents. 
The fighting is vast, chaotic, and bloody, the initial clash having long since 
bled out and dissipated until it seems all the world is fighting, as far as the 
eye can see. In the center of it all, on top of a pile of rubble topped by a 
slab of former wall that serves as a makeshift dais, Bradley fights Celes and 
Tai'en, Winterheart General against Earth and Fire Point Guards, almost on 
display as they rise above the main fray.



     "Where's a handy volcano when you need one," Tai'en agrees with Celes, eyes 
narrowing slightly in annoyance even as she continues to work. Fair or not, 
whatever moves Bradley to leave Tai'en alone while she works, it suits her. She 
would laugh at the notion if he ever mentioned it--this was war, and since when 
was war fair?--but she'll use it nonetheless, to shape the energy and craft it 
into a spell launched dozens of times before. Though never at an enemy quite so 
persistent at getting up again.
     Her anima banner, having died down slightly in the preceding moments 
without use of Charm or spell, flares up again as bright and iconic as it had 
after her first spell as she releases the second. Waves of sickly red and grey 
flame radiate from her hand, flung open and spread-fingered toward Pride; even 
should he move, or dodge, the flames would literally bend to chase him. If they 
strike, and strike successfully, they do no apparent damage, sinking and 
vanishing below his skin. But he would feel the effects in a few moments, as his 
very bones begin to soften, turning into molten steel.



Corigan didn't aid early on, not out of not caring but to wait till the time was 
right. After all once the forces of Roc knew of his abilities it would be that 
much harder to shock them wouln't it? From the roof of a burning building an 
winter heart soldid lets out a cry as he's kicked off and hits the street below, 
a moment later an armored form leaps down from the roof above sword and heavy 
shield in hand, how did he do that? Years of training to move in his armor. He 
keeps his sword ready and then he raises his arm and says "Shield boomerang." 
That triggers the magic in the otherwise technolical creation, an hidden device 
in the shield powers up and it launches off his raised arm screaming towards 
several more winterheart soliders. "Is this all your cowards have?!"
     She comes on at him, and he moves to the side, sending his sword out in an 
attempt to cut a clean gash right into her side. Celes is fast right now, but 
she's not quite as fast as someone that can see moments into the future. So 
while she does deflect the sword away from her by positioning the shield in its 
path, it does hit home, digging in just a little before being pushed out of her 
flesh and away from her side. This causes Celes to narrow one eye and let out a 
growl.
     Her sword darts in again thinking to hit him up high this time while she 
shoves with all her might against the sword on her shield, hoping to throw the 
weapon out wide in case she needs to bring it across her body for the other 
sword.
     And then she cheats. Celes stomps a foot firmly on the ground and sends a 
vibration running through it, localized around Pride before jumping away from 
him to let Tai'en's spell through. Trying to keep him from moving around too 
much, that's all! "Can you manage healing?" She calls back.



     The soldiers recoil in shock as one of their comrades suddenly splats on 
the ground before them, followed by COrigan himself--and very soon, by his 
shield coming toward them. A few of the quickest-witted scatter, or duck, or 
otherwise move to dodge; some, however, are too taken aback to take any such 
measures, and so find themselves hurled backward, crashing into a building wall 
as the shield powers through them. Broken ribs, for certain, if they still 
breathe. The remaining soldiers, however, rise and sprint toward this new 
opponent, faces set and melee weapons in hand. One thrusts at him with a 
longsword, while another shakes out a morningstar and sends it whipping toward 
his face.



Well now. This is an interesting situation! Pride's gaze falls to Tai'en, even 
as he spirals away from Celes with that unnatural grace. She is still chanting. 
Magic, probably. The man's eyes narrow faintly. It is going to fire, and soon. 
Celes comes at him once more, striking high. With a quick jerk, Pride leans his 
entire upper body back, to let the weapon soar just over him, knicking his chin 
with the slight dribble of blood. Eyes narrow faintly. This time, Celes isn't 
his target. His right arm tenses. And with one, swift motion...
     Pride HURLS his sword at Tai'en.

It's meant to impale her in the center of her chest. It moves with the strength 
he propelled it at -- all of his strength, sending it rocketing with speeds 
faster than /him/, propelled like some ungodly sharp missile towards the 
spellcaster just as she launches off her attack. And he is about to move --
     Save that Celes stomps the ground.

With him throwing that sword, he doesn't have time to prepare. He sees it coming, 
but there's little he can do about it. Knocked to the ground as he is, those 
flames consume him... and nothing. "Hm--" For a moment, before PAIN overwhelms 
him. He's never had his bones turned to molten steel before, that he remembers. 
Bradley twists around on the ground, though he shows no signs of pain beyond 
grit teeth and narrowed eyes. It's an interesting experience...

One he does not desire to repeat.



     "Healing spells, actually, are one of the few I've never gotten around to 
mastering," Tai'en admits dryly. She's rather regretting the oversight now--but 
she can still move. Even as the blood pours down her legs, she stands up slowly, 
one hand resting briefly on her knees, before rising fully to her feet. "At 
least, not quick-healing spells; give me a day of rest and I'll be fine, but..." 
Trailing off, she smiles faintly in grim satisfaction as the effects of Internal 
Flame finally take hold. One of the nastier ones in her arsenal, she will admit, 
and not one she uses much; there are usually cleaner ways of offing someone. But 
in this instance... pain might slow the man down more than death would. And if 
he is slowed, then perhaps her next spell would have a greater chance of 
connecting--
     Or so she plans. But plans never survive the first engagement with the 
enemy, much less plans hastily concocted in the middle of a fight, and so even 
as she releases the spell and begins to gather her concentration for another one, 
the sword comes /hurtling/ at her, at speeds too great to dodge outright--
especially with her legs in the condition that they are. She can deflect it, 
however; and she does, or at least tries to. Her swords are away from her, both 
dug into the stone to stand upright, one left behind while fighting and the 
other buried in order to free her hands up for the spellcasting, but she still 
has her hands. Jerking them up involuntarily, her bracers skim against the blade, 
shifting it off to the side--but not enough. Instead of burying itself through 
her breastbone, it merely--merely--goes through her side, crashing through ribs 
and puncturing a lung, and carries onward, the force hurling her backward off 
the raised platform and sending her crashing through two hapless fighters who 
happened to be engaging in combat behind her. Her breath leaves her, and she 
wheezes, pink frothy bubbles coming to her lips.



Corigan has got their attention good, his shield returns and latches back on to 
his gauntly and not a moment too soon. As he manages to bring up his shield to 
take the full force of the morning star, which holds suprisingly. As for the 
blade from the long sword the solider does score a glancing hit and Coring 
brings his blade about attemping to stab the man in the sword arm shoulder.



     "Well, we'll have plenty of days now. Just wor--" The sword goes by her, 
Celes turns to watch it go and dig into Tai'en, then send her flying off the 
platform and to the ground. Her eyes go wide when her friend goes down. A deep 
breath, she closes her eyes and then turns to Pride. She might have something 
that will stop him. If she can't kill him, then she's going to hold him. This 
might well end up putting her under, but right now she doesn't have much more of 
a choice. Celes falls into the flow of the shield and pushes through that and to 
the magic of her soul. The ground shakes under Pride once more. The vibrations 
however are meant to disrupt and thus does the ground begin to feel less solid. 
Mud. She doesn't stop with just the surface. She's doing more than just trying 
to slow down Pride's movements, she's trying to put him so deep into mud he'll 
have a hard time getting out so she can use the magicite while he's still in the 
mud.
     While the ground goes, mud down some four feet, and she preys, begs of Swan, 
of SImurgh, all the gods right now, that Pride doesn't move. As the mud is 
formed Celes puts all of her concentration into drawing forth magic to 
facilitate her fire spell.
     Now that she's actually thinking about it, this probably wasn't the 
smartest idea, as with Tai'en down, she's rather open to attack right now.



     The pair of soldiers who confront Corigan work in tandem, apparently long-
accustomed to working together in battle. The longsword-wielding soldier isn't 
quite quick enough to avoid the retaliatory stab, and takes it in the shoulder. 
With a cry, he staggers back, but shoots in the the same motion with the gun in 
his other hand. At the same time, the one with the morningstar pulls it back 
again, only to whip it out at Corigan's legs, seeking to swipe him take him off-
balance.



One thing about having your skeleton turned to molten steel -- you don't stay 
alive long. It might be a painful moment, but it's brief. Innards, especially 
the brain, does not do well against exceptionally hot materials, and so, 
although Pride convulses on the ground, it does not last long. His movements 
soon die down, and he's left, lifeless. For a small while. Moments pass, as 
Tai'en is rocketed through the air, and the General... snaps his eyes wide open. 
A single hand pushes him up off the ground, so that he can get up... and see the 
fact that the Fire Point Guard is no longer present. Which leaves... the Earth 
Point. Slamming her shield into the ground. His eyes narrow. He has died once 
too many today -- he shall not again.
     With one push, Pride LEAPS through the air as the ground beneath him and 
Celes turns to mud. His ascent only slowed by the fact that some of that mud 
snagged his right foot. But even with the somewhat hindered start, Pride still 
flies, DIRECTLY at Celes, to pierce her through the left side of her collar bone, 
carrying the strike with that titanic strength.



     Her rifles long-abandoned-- well, one, anyway-- as she works her way 
through the crowd, she hasn't exactly had the time to keep tally of the battle 
between Celes, Tai'en, and King Bradley as it happens. And now one makes an 
effective club, cracking it down over the back of a man's head and forcing him 
to double over. Throwing herself over his back, rolling from shoulder to 
shoulder, she brings the butt of it up in a swing that uses the roll's momentum 
to smack it right back up his face, letting the weapon go as she keeps walking. 
Gripping the collar of the cloak and snapping open the clasp, she drops it to 
the ground and proceeds to walk forward. Infiltrating a facility like the 
Garrison wasn't easy-- what with the clay golem she had at her side-- but she's 
had enough experience in crowded combat like this to last her two lifetimes.
     Darn Sieg, and the things she learned hanging out with him.
     With both Heirin in hands, she makes with a rather impressive display of 
pistol-whipping and shooting people low in the trunk as she goes. Knees, 
shoulders, arms, the occasional shot to the hip-- and no, she isn't afraid of 
blasting someone in the chest. Finally, the crowd parts enough. Tai'en's body 
has only now struck the ground with the sword sticking out of her chest in 
testament to the injury. Celes is casting. Pride is high in the air. Arcia 
Rinslet has energy bullets chambered in her gun.

     "HEADS UP!"

     Thumbing the switches on the holy silver firearms, she plants her feet 
shoulder-width apart and fires both pistols in the air, toward Pride. The two 
shots combine into one large and rather mean-looking ball of blue and white 
light, crackling fiercely and looking to snatch the High General right out of 
the air. It isn't without a drawback to Arcia herself-- thrown off her footing 
and colliding with a handful of combatants on both sides from the utter force of 
the shots' backblow.



Corigan says "Be a smart man, find another line of work." Notes the crusader. 
However he's suprised by the gun! There were guns on his world but they were 
rifle sized or cannons so this pistol sizes weapon is a big suprise. That stun 
costs him as he's flipped off his feet and the shot catches his heavy armor and 
it punches through the tick shoulder armor, the armor wasn't made to stop 
bullets after all and he doesn't seem too happy about that. "...So be it, by the 
power of God YOU SHALL BE PURGED!" He's going to have to get back up first...



     The breath leaves her, and pink froth bubbles on her lips--and yet, Tai'en 
still breathes, and lives, a fact she proves as her hands rise slowly and 
woozily from her position on the ground, on top of the pair of combatants she'd 
so rudely slammed into (and impaled one in the process). They close around the 
blade, and then, with a sudden jerk, she pulls it from her chest. A fresh flow 
of blood streams out, and she stops it with a thought; the wounds remain, but 
the blood ceases to flow. Only then does she finally rise to her feet, wiping 
the blood from her lips with the back of her hand. "That." She pauses to cough, 
and presses a hand against her chest. "Was not nice." Hefting the blade, she 
channels Essence briefly, and hurls it right back at Pride, lance-like, streaks 
of golden light trailing it as it speeds across the intervening space.



Lives, does she? Well, her friend likely will not for much longer. Nor will she, 
when Celes is done for. Pride flies, and his sword thrusts forward /fast/, 
propelled by strength enough to pierce steel. Intent on impaling Celes through 
the lung is he, because with a collapsed lung... even if she lives, the effort 
to fight will be too great. She'd die soon after. So the sword thrusts, to 
pierce cleanly, except--

It's rather impossible to maneuver about in mid-leap.

(HEADS UP!)

That massive blast of energy slams into Pride, sending him flying through the 
air. Those civilians clothes he was wearing burn off from the force of the 
energy, revealing black slacks and a black bodysuit underneath that strangely go 
undamaged. It is painful, to be sure; but Pride is CERTAINLY still allive, 
enough so that when he lands, he lands on his feet, sizzling from the energy. 
Just in time, to see that sword coming at him.

He moves swiftly. One swing of his remaining sword smashes that one to the side, 
off it's course, so that it only tears slightly into his side. He braces himself, 
and then? Bradley RUSHES forward at the injured Tai'en, to finish her off once 
and for all, with the swift plunge of his sword right into her heart.



     At his audacious response, the soldiers stop, and look at each other, and 
then... laugh. "The power of God ain't got much to do here," the morningstar man 
says cynically, and the other, griamcing slightly with the pain of his punctured 
sword-arm, adds, "Unless you mean Roc, in which case... we're it." Grin. And 
he'll raise his gun again, to point it toward Corigan--but he's taking his time 
about it, enjoying the moment, while his friend turns to smash the morningstar 
into the side of a passing citizen.



Corigan smiles like he knows something they don't. "So you say, and Roc ah yes 
the demon." He seems amused untill the shot is taken at the civilian and he 
knows what to do he protjects and aura from heimself that will protect the 
innocent, but the price tag? He takes the full force of the blow an massive 
impact appears on his chest armor and Corigan isn't looking too well. "Very well 
cowardly spawn of darkness. Back to Hell with you. GRAND CROSS!" The Crusader 
drives his blade into the ground and the ground about him lights up in the shape 
of a cross, which should hopefully catch the two soliders in it letting them be 
caught in a full torrent of holy power. Sure they are not demons or undead but 
it will still be bad if they get caught in it, however the Crusader also takes 
damage from it but he's not going to quit, he knows he's got to put these men 
down...



     She hears him, and feels through the earth that Pride is moving, she looks 
up from her kneeling position in time to see him coming forward and she blinks 
once, the look of her face one of resignation. She knows there's no way she can 
pull her shield up in time to deflect the attack at that speed, and there's no 
way she can move fast enough to avoid it. This is it, the last stand.
     But it seems that the gods have heard her prayers and answered them in turn. 
Pride goes flying back and lands. That didn't kill him? Well, just as well, she 
says. Tai'en is up as well and the sword, though deflected, gives Celes the 
distraction needed to move from the mud. Now that she can better move around, 
she watches Pride. So fast. But that's fine with her. Time to pull out the big 
guns.
     "Shiva!" She screams at the top of her lungs and the gem on her sword's 
pommel glows, flaring a bright red before turning blue as ice. It forms on the 
ground in front of Tai'en, a patch of ice, which shoots up like a spike and 
shatters. There stands the mighty esper. She brings up a hand, it glows blue, 
and then releases a torrent of chilling wind and icy shards. "Freeze him solid, 
damnit!"
     If this doesn't work, Celes isn't sure what will.



     Even as the soldier says that, though, one look around would tell the canny 
observer that the tides of battle are beginning to shift. There were, after all, 
only about five hundred soldiers, less however many had died in the past week 
and not risen again; pitted against at least a thousand angry Middleton citizens, 
of those who could or would fight, and with all the animals of the city and the 
surrounding area participating as well, they were highly outnumbered. Skill and 
tactics can carry a long way, but they cannot carry one forever. The number of 
standing soldiers are dwindling, now scattered into small groups here and there, 
almost lost amidst the flow of Middleton citizens.



     The brown-haired girl watches on agape-- how could he possibly survive such 
an assault?! Arcia stands up amidst the cluster and the chaos, pushing more 
people out of the way (and one unfortunate soul into the path of that Grand 
Cross) and continues to charge ever forward, going as far as clotheslining a few 
people with her arms as she runs, and nearly smacking a few men's brains right 
out of their skulls with the handle of the weapon.

     Only when she sees Shiva does the girl actually -stop-, however, her eyes 
wide one more time and watching how things progress. Turning around, now, she 
surveys the tide of the battle both around and behind her-- and the battle with 
the High General. Lifting the holy pistol again, she fires a shot into a 
straggling Winterheart soldier's leg to send him to the ground. With Shiva, 
Tai'en, and Pride on a collision course, all she can do is wonder-- what is to 
come next...?



     The sword, unfortunately, doesn't have the effect she'd hoped--but a blast 
of blue-white energy takes care of that for her, almost. Spun off to the side, 
the blade whirls back toward her, boomerang-like despite the fact that she 
hadn't thrown it end-over-end at all. The hilt smacks back into her hand, and 
she raises it to meet the oncoming foe--
     But with her legs stabbed through, and a gash in her side, and working on 
only one lung, her reactions are far less swift than they would normally be, and 
the sword heavier and unattuned to her. Not normally factors that would be of 
any hindrance against normal people, but the Winterheart general is far from a 
normal person, and every edge she can have can only help--except that she 
doesn't have many edges.
     Blade meets blade, and blade falls before the greater strength of the 
incoming stab, and it crunches through breastbone and heart and spine and out 
the other end.
     And yet, she still lives. If not for long. Golden eyes meet cyan and 
Ourobouros, and she just grins, the blood frothing up again and down her lips. 
"Well, this'll be in...terest...ing...."
     With the last of her energy, she pulls herself /up/ his blade, her right 
hand held low and before her--and with a thought, she summons the Red Feather 
Sword from the sheathe into her hand. It materializes in her hand, and hopefully 
with the blade right in his body. And in the next moment, she bursts into flame, 
a raging fire that engulfs her and yet doesn't burn, but most hopefully would 
surround Pride and turn him to ash.



     "Someone thinks he's a knight out of a fuckin' fairy-tale," the gunman 
snorts. He'd never have the chance to regret those words, though--at least not 
in that lifetime. In the next, after he revives, perhaps. More likely, he'll 
just nurse a grudge.
     Hardly has he finished those words when armored crusader drives his blade 
into the ground, calling upon the holy energies and blasting them up toward the 
soldiers. They're blown right off their feet, uniforms crisping around them and 
the energies battering at their bodies. No, they're no demons--just humans. 
Which is, perhaps, worse in some ways. But the magical energy is still enough to 
wash through them and burn them in the light.
     The pace of the fighting is beginning to slow, as the last pockets of 
soldiers are being overwhelmed. There's a ragged cheer from some of the soldiers 
with a moment to breathe as they realize one of the Points has fallen, taken 
down by their unstoppable General, but they very quickly quiet as they realize 
that doesn't change their own situation--still fighting for their lives in the 
middle of a horde of hostiles, with no reason to want them alive at any point in 
time. They fight on, but there's a sense of grimness, a doomed last stand, in 
the few that remain. Even the Middleton side, once energized by the speech and 
Metal's urgings, are flagging now; the strange aid of the animals and the energy 
of rage notwithstanding, it has been a long battle, though any battle even of a 
few minutes feels long. But they fight on desperately, surging to overcome the 
final shreds.



Fire and ice. Something poetic about that.

Not that it truly matters, right now.

There is the sound of metal clashing against metal, the cacophonous ring of 
conflict between two blades screaming through the once-day now later afternoon. 
How long had this battle been going on? Did it really matter? All that matters, 
at this point in time -- all that counts -- is that Pride's blade sinks through 
flesh, muscle, bone, organs, straight through the spine of his enemy. She might 
not be dead now -- but she will die momentarily. But it is at the moment of 
impact... that he notices it has suddenly gotten colder.

And hotter.

Those cold winds slam against Bradley, but he holds firm. Frost and ice begin to 
cover him, but for a man who lives in Winterheart? This is hardly a /discomfort/ 
so much as it is problematic -- he'll likely be frozen completely soon, or at 
least some of his extremities will be. He needs to get out of the situation, 
quickly. Fortunately...

(Well, this'll be in...terest...ing...)
     Tai'en provides a solution.

The flame consumes him. At such close proximities, so fast an attack, he cannot 
avoid it. Consumed by those flames he is, eating away at skin and tissue, muscle, 
completely engulfing him... so that in the aftermath? A corpse unrecognizable 
and charred black falls down before Tai'en, smelling distinctly of burned human 
flesh.

It's over. All is done with.

... Save for the fact that nearly half a minute after his fall, a single burnt 
hand lifts to curl around Tai'en's wrist.

Energy begins to wash. A similar process as before, except it covers Pride 
completely, the process taking long as his ENTIRE body reknits and reconstructs 
itself. Slowly, though, his grip on Tai'en's wrist tightens, that charred hand 
becoming nothing more than nerves and muscle, and then a complete, normal hand. 
Those pants, the bodysuit even reconstruct themselves -- possibly just another 
part of him. And then... Pride will lift up, intent on picking up Tai'en with 
him.

"MEN!!" His voice booms. "IT IS TIME TO RETREAT!!"



     She's breathing heavily now. Overuse of the Gem Box and summoning are 
really doing a number. She's having trouble keeping focus now and for a while 
she shakes her head. Cleared for a moment, Celes sits, on her knees, leaning 
against the sword as Pride's body falls to the ground. Her breath is ragged, but 
still there. She looks at Tai'en, then back down to the body. "About time he 
stayed de--" This is the third time she's been cut off on proclaiming him dead, 
and this time Celes can't control herself. "Oh... fuck it all." This is getting 
old, really fast.
     The Earth Point slowly picks herself up and wobbles on her feet, staring at 
Pride with anger in her eyes. There's no way he could have come back from that. 
No way! They froze him solid and then cooked him! Ran him through the heart and 
neck! Even blew him up with a gun! Does anything stop this man? Her sword in 
hand, Celes takes one step, then two, then she's running right at Pride. Most 
people might scream in these situations, or call their opponent's name out. She 
does neither. She'd like, hope for, the element of surprise and get Tai'en away 
from him. But by now the Haste spell has worn off, she's out of magic, and very 
near to giving up the fight and falling over dead. But not without one last push 
to end it all.



     It is, perhaps, a useless gesture, and even as her vision grows black she 
knows it; but at the same time, she knows, too, that visible gestures are 
sometimes more important than the actual effectiveness. Her part in this is done. 
She can feel her heart struggling weakly against the steel that still pierces it, 
before finally giving up the fight; Exalted she might be, but immortal she is 
not. Even as the strength drains from her limbs, there is no fear. She'll be 
back. And this... well, she's always wondered what it would be like to die. Her 
memories of her previous life had never included that, specifically.
     She has to say, it isn't pleasant.
     Very shortly, she cannot say anything more.
     Overhead, almost lost in the noise of battle, a crow screams in anger and 
fear, and for a second a shadow passes across Pride--before intelligence asserts 
itself, and Tokk streaks away, still screaming.



Corigan watche as Tai's being picked up, Cori's hutting but he's still standing 
he keeps moving holding his sword with his good arm and his shield is now across 
his back. He's not going to make it in time but he's going to darn well try... 
to make it. "So now you run with a hostage? It seems Roc scrapes the bottom of 
the barrel."



     At the bellow from their general, the few soldiers that remain cast a 
harried look at the number of people that remain between them and safety, but 
orders are orders. There are pitifully few of them left, but they begin to 
withdraw, breaking from their individual struggles and attempting to fight their 
way back--but it's a daunting proposition, and more of them are lost along the 
way. The Middleton side cheers, voices hoarse, and surges afterward; at least, 
some do, while others, weary from the fighting, simply stop, glad that it is 
over.



He had received a message, some time ago. These things happen, when you are a 
Priest. True to the form of Osprey, it was short. To the point. It told him 
exactly what needed to be done today, and Bradley? Has done it. And over all 
things that currently stand in the Dream... the will of his god presides over 
all. A puppet is a puppet is a puppet, after all. It is merely who pulls the 
strings that ever changes.

Tai'en's lifeless body is lifted off the ground, the sword still embedded in her 
body. It is when Celes finally comes charging that Pride looks towards her with 
narrowed eyes. "Humans are foolish." It's a statement, said loudly enough so 
that Celes can hear. One swift motion is all it takes -- Bradley yanks out the 
sword that had impaled Tai'en, and then?
     Plunges it into Celes' chest.

If it is impaled, he will simply let go of the sword, leaving it to stick in 
Celes as he retreats with Tai'en's body. He ignores all others. His work here is 
done. They might not have won... but Middleton has been weakened. And just as 
Osprey guided, the sin of Pride will retreat... and wait.
     Something big is on the horizon, after all...



     Finally, when she's about on him, Celes screams. It almost seems like she's 
going to finish a sentence where this man, Bradley is concerned! "BRADLEY! I'LL 
DIE BEFORE YOU TAKE H--" Her head jerks, and she comes to a sudden stop. She 
blinks, looking rather perplexed, though something in her expression will tell 
him that she expected this might happen when she acted in rage.
     Looking down, the sword is indeed in her chest, and through her back. A 
small trickle of blood comes out of the corner of her mouth and she coughs, 
getting a little on Pride. "I'll get... her back..." He lets go, she falls. 
Celes stares at the sky, blinking slowly while her breath slows. She can feel 
her heart trying to pump blood even with the gash in it. A Cure spell isn't 
going to take care of this, she fears.
     By the time Pride's gone, glazed eyes are staring at nothing, and she has 
stopped moving.



     As the last of the Winterheart soldiers beat a retreat, another, stronger 
cheer goes up from the residents--at least, those who are nearby and can hear 
the news. Some of them just sit, knees suddenly giving way now that the battle 
is over; others attempt to pursue the fleeing soldiers, especially in light of 
the burden Pride carries. Yet others throng to other districts, where pockets of 
fighting still go on, the news not yet spread. From deeper within the district, 
people begin to filter out--healers, concerned men and women checking on loved 
ones, people tending to the dead and wounded and piling up the Winterheart 
corpses to cart them off to a dungeon. They might revive, but they'll revive in 
chains, if they do at all.
     The sun sets. And people tend to their own. After the initial cheer, 
weariness sets in. Tomorrow, perhaps, will be time for celebration; tomorrow, 
enjoyment of the fact that Middleton is theirs again. Tonight, there is only 
time for cleaning up, and healing, and grieving.