[center][color=#b3ccff][h2]Esben Mathiassen[/h2][/color][/center]
[hr][@HereComesTheSnow][@Psyker Landshark]
[hr]

The hovel wasn't terrible, as far as hovels went. The walls were still standing, though a little scorched. The roof had even managed to avoid caving in. The door was missing, and alongside the way the timbers and covers making the walls of the house were shrunk and punctured beneath their lattices, meant that it was left [i]somewhat[/i] open to the elements—but that also meant that it was much harder to be taken surprise of while residing in it. A factor that had proven quite influential in choosing it as a temporary residence rather than any of the other ruined buildings in the village; keeping the rain off his head, sturdy enough not to worry about it falling on him, and still open enough that he could keep his ears open made it leagues better than any other choice.

Of course, it helped that it was large enough to fit two.

[color=#b3ccff]"Kom, kom,"[/color] he urged, peering through the latticed wall at the retreating backs of the troops as they hurried away from the ruined home. Behind him, he could hear his current travelling partner hoisting himself back up to the ground floor. Lucky for them, the house had a surprise trap-door cellar; neither had expected, after stopping over in the village, that a division of Valheimr troops would decide to occupy and search it. But with the cellar and some clever rearranging of the mess over its entrance, they'd been able to hide while the hovel was searched. A search that had just ended moments before the taller of the pair, crouched near the open exit, sprung up as quietly as possible to observe the goings-on—and, if necessary, plan an escape.

[i][color=#b3ccff]Shameful, Esben. I haven't even gotten around to warning him that I may need him to die for me. He's likely to view it as a betrayal if I have to use him as bait.[/color][/i]

And yet—

Clashing blades. Voices raised, some in anger, some in surprise. Issuing commands. The unmistakable [i]crack[/i] of gunfire. His eyes narrowed. [color=#b3ccff]"We may be able to get out of this—"[/color]

His eyes widened again as two voices made themselves clearly heard over the din, at the name one of them called out, their voice unmistakably mocking even with the sound of combat. [color=#b3ccff][i]"Ranbu no Izayoi,[/i] here? Not alone. This could be..."[/color] He turned, catching sight of a flash of red moving in off to one side, before disappearing from his view, well past the occupying soldiers. Off to another side, a small bundle of black and grey rushing in, one hand stretching out already.

[color=#b3ccff]"Follow close and watch my back, Rudolf!"[/color] he commanded. [color=#b3ccff]"This is an opportunity we [i]can't[/i] pass up."[/color] Hopefully the younger wanderer wouldn't question his specific word choice. He seemed too potentially-useful to let him go thinking he could run off at any minute.

As the small black-and-grey clothed mage let loose with a powerful elemental blast, the tall man dove out from his cover—narrowly avoiding stray fire and debris that came flying towards the hovel he had just vacated from the blast and the dying men—rolling over his shoulder and coming up on his feet in a single smooth movement, his sword and his buckler already off his belt and in his hands. He rushed ahead to the rear of the Valheimr line, to a pair of gunners that had narrowly avoided a cleaving razor of wind sent their way. The first fell to a sharp blow to the back of his skull, cranium cracking and brain hemorrhaging as they met the rim of his buckler. The second twisted on one heel, raising his carbine to attack, only to open his own throat against the blade held out just for him to lacerate himself with.

The carbine was kicked up and out of his suddenly clammy hands, and Esben stepped along, the blood spraying past him against the wall of another ruined home. He clamped his left arm down against the blade of his sword to keep it held up, catching the carbine as it tried to fall back to the ground; holding it out with one hand he turned, another nearby gunner falling limply as a fired bullet tore his brainstem asunder. The carbine flew back, Esben releasing it to its own recoil, and taking his blade in hand again.

[color=#b3ccff]"Have your duel, samurai!"[/color] he called to Izayoi, with a small salute. [color=#b3ccff]"I'll keep these others off your back!"[/color]