A complication.  ID's eyes had been tracking J-3 through the steam when she sensed something enter her sphere of influence: a swiftly moving blot of darkness cutting through the glow of the elevated [Sun] aspect she'd woven throughout the area.  She crouched instinctively, and something metallic whooshed over her head, clattering against the ruin behind her.  She regained her footing, skipping backwards with the practiced grace of a dancer as the daggers nipped at her toes.  ID whispered [Fortification], weaving a strengthening lattice into her hands, down her arms and spine and into her legs.  Her footfalls left sizzling prints of fire and melting rock as she maneuvered to keep J-3 and her new assailant in her vision.  ID planted her feet, bracing to meet the other woman as she fell through the steam.  She grasped the hilt of the machete at her hip, emblazoning the sheath with smoldering kanji.  ID met Máire's eyes, and for that second that the Templar was falling towards her with sword overhead the world stood still.

At the very last moment before Máire could cleave her from shoulder to hip, ID's hand closed around the hilt of her machete and drew it to meet the Templar's attack.  Rather than cold forged iron, a blade of brilliant white flames and scalding heat clashed against the Templar's zweihander, throwing an arc of flame along the path of the draw to intercept J-3's charge.  The impact splintered the ground at ID's feet and showered the battlefield with sparks and embers.

Queen of Swords.  ID's eyes narrowed very slightly.  Mother had warned her about this one: Cruaidín Catutchenn was an overzealous extremist that could not be reasoned with.  A report about Cruaidín trickled through the Menagerie news network just this morning concerning the Templar murdering a group of looters who'd broken into a cybernetics lab without so much a warning shot or a "stop, Templar."  More concerning was that their missing subject appeared to be under the Templar's care.

ID's eyes flicked to check on J-3 as she held the Templar's advance, hesitant to make any further offensive moves: she wasn't supposed to clash with the Templar if it could be avoided, except in specific instances... though she didn't think she would be faulted for self defense.  ID held the Templar in sword lock, maneuvering her to keep J-3 in her cone of vision and briefly wondering what the creature could have said to bamboozle her into its service.

She clicked a button in the palm of her free hand and was rewarded with a few droplets of liquid before the feed sputtered dry. She swiftly enwrapped the fluid in swirling mana and white flames, holding the fireball at her fingertips ready to deflect an attack from J-3.  Her fuel reserves hadn't yet recovered from her fight with the Apex, so that small amount would have to do.

Rat landed in a graceless heap after quite a bit of noisy flailing, but slowly pulled himself to his feet.

[b]"Ooooohhhh... fire bad, fire very very bad.  Oooh my head, the mind magics!"[/b] Rat muttered as he staggered away from the battle towards the Stoneworks as quickly as he could manage while rubbing his temples.