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At the sight of the metallic blur launching itself upwards out of the cloud, Rolan found a single thought crossing his mind as the arc began carrying the blur back down towards the knights, the caustic smoke doing far less than he would have preferred, again, as it was cast away with a stiff breeze that was conjured. He caught himself muttering under his breath as he kept moving, though he was moving for a covered position rather than simply bolting further upwards with no regard to what was incoming.

"Fuck..."

Positioning himself in cover, he looked to where the daemoness had slammed down, cutting him off from the Captain and Sir Renar while the magic intensified. No, now was not the time to think, as he snapped the crossbow to his shoulder and fired. He wasn't aiming center mass for the daemoness, he expected her to be fast and smart enough to know he would react to her landing as well and evade. Hell, maybe she was expecting it and deliberately positioned to allow a missed shot to strike his allies. That's why he aimed low, aiming for her knee, specifically one that, on a miss, would harmlessly slam into the ground instead of risk injuring his allies. Still, this was a juncture he had to resolve quickly. The daemoness was the kind of threat he was not going to be of much use dealing with, not in a fair fight, and right now he had to assume the original plan had been scattered to the wind just like his smoke screen had been. That meant adapting, and that meant making for the top of the hill. Sir Renar had the right idea with attacking the mage, though the throwing knife was likely more a distraction than a true attack. Rolan was not going to allow himself the same luxury as he bolted up along the more sparsely covered path, trusting the daemoness to Sir Renar and the Captain.

It was likely one of the other Knights would peel off to engage the daemoness as well, Sir Gerard given the previous volunteering to face the daemoness, leaving two knights for the more guarded path, and Rolan alone for the sparser path. Not ideal, but considering that the daemoness could slaughter him in a melee with little effort he was only going to slow the others down dealing with her. No, he focused on the original plan, lead the way up even if no one was following him. Only one of them had to reach the top, and with two remaining on the other path had better odds splitting attention than he did. But he could work with that, as he finished reloading and began trying his absolute best to land a killing shot on the hundi on the top of the hill as he bounded upwards, only pausing to line up a shot when he was weaving through the veritable hail of magic coming down on them. At worst, he would get her attention and focus long enough to create openings, at absolute worst the daemoness may take offense to his efforts long enough to leap up after him, buying the knights time to reorganize and advance.
The broad consensus among the gathered knights was to split up and attack from multiple flanks at once. The Captain organized things more thoroughly. No one would be making an attempt on the climb, a part of him was disappointed to hear that but it was quickly suppressed. The bold, arguably foolhardy, volunteering by Sir Gerard was wisely not pursued. So it would be three and three, since Rolan was not going to hold his breath that anyone was going to convince Gertrude to assist, even by prodding her ego. He considered the groups and their taskings, continuing to size up his opening shot all the while. There was quite a lovely small rock at the point the hill reached its peak, just falling short of a directed attack, which would work wonders in scattering the smoke upwards and outwards. Even if it only lasted a second before being blown back or dispersed it would give them a second to begin moving. As for the groups, Gerard, Fleuri, and Fionn would tackle the route likely defended by the daemoness. Gerard on the front, with the other two on the flank, they should be able to hold the creature's attention well enough, maybe even advance. He would have to keep a sharp eye on their flank in case an opportunity to interfere made itself available. He did have a knack for ruining perfectly good fights.

That left him paired with the Captain and Sir Renar. Renar was smart, adaptable to changing battlefield conditions, he had observed as much during his actions against the Talderian knights. How fast he was on his feet, however, was another matter that remained to be seen, but he would not disparage the man for being the spitting image of a proper Knight. The Captain was faster on her feet, in comparison, and had proven herself in the melee before. Fortune willing, she would be able to keep up better, but as far as Rolan was concerned, he would end up leading the way. He wore the least armor, not a scrap of metal on him, and travelled light to begin with. Problem being, taking hits was, frankly, not an option. Even more so than normal, staring down magic capable in a siege. Regardless, they had stood around long enough, and a real threat wouldn't have let them stand around, scout, and plan to this extent. It was time to get this underway, and he knew just how he would do so.

"As you say Captain, I suggest that whoever is being targeted goes to ground and the other two leap past, so even defensively we advance. I'll lead the initial way, and fortune willing create an opening. Long strides and swift feet, Roses." With that, he snapped the crossbow to his shoulder and fired, having spent the entire discussion sizing up his shot he shouldn't have needed any time to aim and give away his intent more than necessary. The bolt, caustic smoke vial lodged in place of its tip, was aimed to shatter right in front of the duo above rather than on them directly, but Rolan did not wait for the shot to land. He bolted, low and fast, for the eastern approach. He was reloading in motion, already planning out where he would take cover from the no doubt impending magical strikes, listening for the Captain and Sir Renar behind him so he didn't evade in a way to bait the impending counter attacks right into their paths. If Gertrude decided to be goaded into helping, well, all the better to keep the opposing mage busy, but he wasn't planning on having her help. Let her prove him wrong.
Yūma was meandering the facility, head fairly lost in his own thoughts at the moment. Sure, they had gone and secured the area, the spirit samurai was secured and the area was, last he heard, being converted into some sort of shrine after an attempt at assisted suicide hadn't worked at all. He suspected they had all been missing something or another, though it wasn't like he could go waltzing back on site and poke around at this point. What was done was done, for better or worse, sometimes all they could do was contain an area and hope someone down the line figured it out. Maybe some exorcist or something could figure it out, all he was good for was shooting problems, or punching them if the need arose. Speaking of shooting, he made a mental note to at least grab a shotgun next time he was called to head out to a situation, at least if it was slightly possible that another full blown battle would occur.

That being said, Yūma figured at this point he could do with some time on the range to get his head out of the last mission. Dwelling on it wouldn't help or change anything, and he always felt better after putting himself through the paces. Heading down to the training wing, he would go to focus on firearms training and drills. Unlike normal, where he would go for his sidearm, he instead began picking through longarms, both conventional and less so. Having had to burn through his entire supply of .45 ammo during the mission had been a bit of a pain, and figured a good way to get his mind off the last mission was focus on bringing more varied tools to the next. Even if that variation was in the method of his shooting rather than completely new ones.

Settling one a shotgun to start with, a standard issue patrol model he was more familiar with from his time with the AERT than as a full blown Agent, Yūma would start proceeding through various courses of fire. Accuracy and speed were goals on the range, sure, but he was also practicing techniques he hadn't used in awhile. Different methods of reloading, firing from each shoulder in case one was compromised, firing from the hip, anything that could come to mind as something that might be useful for whenever the next mission would come up. He fully expected another one to come up, something in his gut was telling him things were not going to be quiet today.
Rolan didn't dignify Lady Gertrude with further attention when it became apparent that she was planning on sitting this one out. If she wasn't going to be of use, he had no need to acknowledge her any further at this juncture. The planned, and carried out, scouting altered his plans and considerations notably. Unlike the majority of the Roses, Rolan was the best equipped and dressed to take advantage of the agility needed to climb the steepest, and most well protected, of the approaches. Granted, that also left the most armored to try and make an attempt on the most exposed approach, where the ability to evade the inevitable torrent of magic would be more important than anything else. He also had the means to force attention by returning fire with his crossbow, something that required very little in the way of concentration and setup to do by this point. He gauged the distance between where he was and the mage above, mentally plotting out the shot so that it would shatter at the feet of the duo and maximize how much time they had to utilize its effects before no doubt driven off with magic. Even a few moments was enough to buy them time to scatter their approach, though since he couldn't settle on where to suggest he go, he deferred to the Captain.

"When we are ready to scatter, no matter the plan, I can send another vial of smoke up to the top of the hill. We just have to get up there, the condition we are in doesn't matter, assuming the cloud lingers that long. Whoever goes for the hardest climb should be concealed from sight long enough to be able to safely get there and started unseen. Assign me where you see fit Captain, I can fill in on any of the groups, be it distraction or dedicated climber."

To his credit, Rolan did not raise the crossbow to his shoulder yet, cradling it like they were still in the planning phase. He could snap it to his shoulder and loose in a moment's notice, no need to telegraph himself too much. The mage had plenty of advantages as it was without adding more, especially if all their planning was in earshot, the increased buzzing grating on his nerves. It was always something annoying with mages, be it attitude, general atmosphere around them, or something else was always either irritating or aggravating when it came to those dedicated exclusively to magic. He didn't say this out loud, mind, no need to offend the vast majority of those here who used magic in addition to their martial abilities misunderstanding him.
Rolan felt a brief, confident smirk on his face when he interrupted the clashing of blades between Ser Gerard and one of the opposing knights, the echoing call of gratitude back towards his current position not lost on the man, though he didn't waste his breath quite yet on shouting back. No, his efforts were proving effective, and he would keep up the fire while adapting to the new approach by the frontline knights. It was like he had considered when he first agreed to join the Roses, that so many of them were front line fighters. Sure, their individual tactics and skills were varied and unmatched at this moment in time, but in the thick of a brawl, it was hard to observe what was going on beyond the next incoming blow. Of course, the opening was finally exploited by the Captain, mirroring the shield running leap by another of their contingent. What he wasn't braced for was, when the Captain reached the Prince, that all the opposing knights were shunted to the sides, and they were all collectively hauled in front of the throne for...congratulations.

Rolan wasn't content to just stand around and listen to Prince Erion, rather he was scanning the surroundings, looking for the next challenge even as the Prince explained how he did not know what was next. Rather, the best bet would be that Thrinax would possibly know, although if he was watching it was out of their sight. Speaking of, there was a glinting that caught his eye. Azure gleaming, and his instincts took over where his mind processed what it was seeing. He barked a single word warning as he made to get off the path as fast as possible. Sure, death was cheap in this place, but that didn't mean he was going to just accept dying. "MOVE!"




Rolan collected himself as he moved back up on the remains of the path, having rather unceremoniously dashed and threw himself out of the incoming attack. Even with agility, it had not been an elegant maneuver, but he was still standing so to hell with elegance. Even if it was apparent that, anyone too slow or too central to the incoming spell to evade it, had returned as well. So it wasn't a part of the challenge, but simply to get their attention. Two figures on a nearby hill, one notably taller, but he couldn't identify them from here. The goal became apparent, climb the hill, and no further strikes would be coming until they began working up the hill. Given the power of the spell, attempting any sort of formation maneuver would be asking to be obliterated. Rolan was already scheming, wedging the second of his caustic smoke flasks to the end of a crossbow bolt. Blind the casters and take advantage of a scattered, multiple pincer approach.

"Rude method of getting our attention, wasn't it? My suggestion is we approach the hill from multiple directions, force their attention to be spread out. Tight knit formations will get obliterated by spells like that. I'll draw attention first, try to blind them, and focus on holding their attention to buy the rest of you time to start running up that hill. Any disagreements?" Rolan was looking at the hill while he spoke, preparing to get moving towards the hill assuming no one disagreed with his thinking. They had time to plan before simply rushing in headlong like a bunch of fools. He would be ready to move out on a moment's notice, even if it was because one of his fellow knights took off unceremoniously.
Yūma had been braced for a lot of things. Some final grand show of force, suicidal last attack, ranting, raving, some grand speech or the like. He had not, however, been ready for the spirit to seem to come to his senses, collapse to his knees, and begin muttering about his failures and inability to escape whatever cycle he had been trapped in. Assuming, after his fellows had died alongside him, he has been stuck in this loop of murder, slaughter, defeat, realization, only to be condemned to it again, Yūma figured that Hell certainly was a thing. This samurai had been living a form of it, and if the agent knew of any way to put the spirit out of his misery, he would have done so without hesitation. Part of him felt a pang of guilt for enjoying the brawl with the spirit as much as he did, but it was gone as soon as it appeared. So far no one seemed keen on answering the question posed about everyone being long dead, which Yūma would at least confirm for the poor soul.

"Unfortunately, yes the village and its people are long since gone."

Listening as the offer to decapitate the samurai with his own sword, in an attempt to carry out the full ritual suicide, was another dark note on many that had come to the fore of this. He ran through his far more limited knowledge of the supernatural, of folklore and the like, thinking out loud as he did. Yūma was at his best fighting and brawling, but now was putting the other part of the whole job to work. Contain or eliminate the anomaly, which meant considering all the options available to them.

"Never been much of one for memorizing folklore, but wasn't there something about the spirits of the dead being unable to move on with unfinished business left? Resolving that might help too, least worth considering at any rate."
"Perhaps, nobility always loves its shows of station and power. It always ends up biting them in the collective ass in the end though, a fact they will find out should you have their measure accurately."

Rolan had sent the alchemy fire tipped bolt in as planned, watching it cause its damage among the ranks of the knights, while the Iron Roses continued to pivot and maneuver, the Captain calling out that he was right and shifting their tactics to align with his intention. Well, this plan was much better now, and observing the Roses in melee certainly solidified the overall improvements that had been found during their training. Well, he assumed as much, he hadn't the exact luxury to fight alongside any of them before now, which was something that he would think about later. Rather, it seemed that the enemies were determined to, if dying, drag down the Roses in melee with weight of their corpses to create openings. Harsh, but a clear example of their dedication to a cause, but the solution to that was simple as well. Simply kill them outright instead, rather than wound them mortally. Easier said than done for those stuck in the melee, mind, but easier done than said for him. He had the confidence in his marksmanship to make it happen, commenting as he reloaded his crossbow.

"Dragging down weapons and arms with their dying breaths and grasps. Grim but potentially effective, but we cannot have that. I don't think they truly appreciate the grand works you are quite evidently capable of Lady Gertrude, rather insulting of them isn't it?"

Rolan shouldered his crossbow, taking aim rather than consider throwing out another alchemical mixture or creation. No, too many allies in close range to risk anything else that covered a wide area. Unlike magic, his tricks were indiscriminate so needed a touch more finesse in their application. However, he always prided himself on firing into crowded situation and hitting his mark, and began sending crossbow bolts into the ranks of the Talderian Knights, taking an extra moment for each shot to line up killing blows. That meant the head, as even the throat would leave moments to grasp and claw at the engaged Roses. No, he couldn't afford the luxury of slow deaths and disruption now. Now was the time for precision and efficiency. He would focus his efforts on preventing enemy knights from getting a chance to try and drag down the Roses, having to trust they would recognize the danger of the shift in tactics
Yūma observing the warrior woman spirit throwing herself in front of his shot, squarely catching the round between the eyes and sending her back into a puddle of goop, was not his preference for putting an end to this. A-188 had been evacuated as well, meaning that all that was left was for the samurai spirit to get incinerated by the impending attack from Agent Murakami. The others had been forcing the onna-bushi back, but as the flames cleared...the samurai spirit was unphased, simply standing there observing that it was finally alone. Still, even if it wasn't attacking at the moment, Yūma moved himself to the front of the Agents, slipping his brass knuckles back on just in case. He wasn't going to attempt to comment or imagine what shape Agent Murakami would be in after that much exertion, but other than bullets, Yūma could do this all day.

"Done throwing manifestations of the past at us, or do you need some final honorable duel to satisfy you?"

Yūma was wary, but the spirit had communicated before, and was intelligent. Those facts meant that simply pressing the assault wasn't necessarily the best idea, not when such a powerful attack had simply phased through it as if nothing had occurred than more than a warm breeze. The spirit had declared, on its honor, none would progress further. What good was honor when all its summons were spent and it was, practically speaking, almost unarmed? But if some honor bound fight might be key to banishing it than so be it. Still, Yūma was wary and ready to evade or block should the need arise, but the lack of continued attacks by the spirit samurai had been unexpected enough to attempt to engage it in another manner completely.
Rolan kept a careful eye on the formation of the Talderian Knights, noting the fluid way they moved and responded to each threat. The center was weakened, but in a manner that couldn't be exploited, withdrawing from the smoke in good order to limit exposure and use it for cover. Clever, his tactic both working and being unable to be exploited was an interesting feeling to recognize, to say little of watching the seemingly indiscriminate barrage of magic accomplish even less. He had a feeling that they would have a means of protecting themselves from ranged barrages, but watching the magic simply split and scatter around the shields was not what he would have expected. Watching Renar, Gerard, Fionn, and Fleuri crash into the ranks of the opposing Knights made it clear that brute force wasn't going to work alone. The danger in the enemy was becoming apparent. Individual skill didn't mean a damn thing in regimental warfare, not until said individual skill could fell regiments on its own. The Iron Roses had grown, yes, but not a one of them was going to fell a regiment on the backswing, not even Gertrude, who's magic had been rather unceremoniously scattered, though it gave him an idea. An idea that would require the aid of the Gertrude, unfortunately, but needs must as he stepped back alongside the mage.

"They seem determined to insult you, Lady Gertrude, might I recommend a more focused, potent strike just ahead of the advancing Roses? A demonstration of precision and power would surely be in order, and create openings to exploit in their unity."

While speaking, Rolan swapped to a bodkin tipped bolt, but rather than immediately load it, grabbed another flask from his pouch, this one looking bright orange and ready to escape at a moment's notice. Alchemist's Fire, one of the oldest concoctions put into service in combat as far as he had been taught, using the bodkin tip to pierce, but not open, the stopper on the flask. With that, he had created an impromptu flaming bolt that would splash copious amounts of intensely burning reagent over the unfortunate Talderian Knights who would get caught in its impact. Alone, their shields could block it rather readily, even if it wasn't magical, which is where his plan came in to play. Gertrude, ideally stoked by his prodding of her ego, forced enough of the second rank knights to form a shield barrier to stop the attack, and the front ranks were distracted by the advancing Iron Roses. Rolan would, at that moment, send the Alchemist's Fire bolt straight into the ranks guarding against Gertrude's magic, and create a far more useful gap in the enemy ranks than his fading smoke screen had. Assuming everything fell into place, of course, relying on a mage's ego was not something he would consider doing lightly in any other circumstance. Readying his crossbow, a more religious man might pray, but Rolan was not terribly devout, focusing himself to make a very narrow shot through the melee when, and if, the magical strike came down.

@Octo
Yūma frowned as the warrior woman spirit disengaged, rushing to the aid of the Samurai while he had been in no effective position to prevent this retreat from occurring. A downside of brass knuckles, his reach was only as good as his arms, but more importantly, it was disappointing that the most interesting fight this whole mission had up and ran off to play hero. The odds were swinging in their favor at last, even as A-188 got blasted into submission, leaving the remaining Agents to deal with the samurai and onna-bushi. The Samurai seemed hell bent on preventing this, unleashing a veritable barrage of lightning, arcing every which way, forcing him to evade at least several of the many blasts that were being emitted like someone would with an automatic shotgun. Rude, and during his evasion, he had a simple goal in mind.

Continuing to move himself into an ideal position, Yūma was watching for the onna-bushi to become engaged, before drawing his pistol again. One shot left, time to make it count, and the moment the sword wielding woman was unable to intercede, Yūma would fire off his last shot, aiming squarely to put the bullet between the eyes of the Samurai and put an end to this once and for all. It would be anti-climatic if it worked, but Yūma was going to have to deal with the fact that he had been robbed a good fight, so might as well rob the Samurai of a proper, honorable death in close quarters. Especially if he was insistent on firing off lightning arrows at the volume he was clearly intending to, that simply would not do, and trying to get close from his current position would have just gotten in the way of the other Agents, so he relied on accuracy with his pistol instead.
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