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[color=#736AFF][b][h1]Ranbu no Izayoi[/h1][/b][/color]
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The castle guards had been very hesitant to return Izayoi's sword to her. That hesitation had been replaced with near-hostility when she'd pulled her short blade out of her robes to tuck it back into her sash. Still, they'd relented in the end, if only because the Emperor's Demon already had a blade in hand. What was one more going to do? And frankly, she just didn't care anymore. All that mattered was that the sword was returned to her. After all, it was the only one of its kind readily available to her. Ordinary katanas shattered when wielded with her former strength, and she'd returned the only other Kurogane blade to its maker after its owner's passing. Izayoi frowned at the thought, and hurried onward to her assigned room.

They'd put her with the jumpy Faye and the scruffy fool from earlier. Izayoi frowned at the revelation. Her thoughts on the ruffian were clear enough already, but the magi was a different story. If he truly was a practioner of the black arts, he would prove useful in the journey to come. Unlike many of her countrymen, Izayoi's opinion on magic and technology alike was the same: if it proved of use, she would make use of it. Taboos meant little to her in the face of practicality.

Hopefully, neither of them spoke overmuch. The last thing she needed tonight was someone else trying to strike up a conversation with her, of all things. She'd been extremely fortunate in that the group as a whole seemed to agree to set out for Osprey first. Or at the very least, enough agreed to go that those who sought to find answers elsewhere didn't press the issue. 

Regardless, she ignored the bed set out for her and slumped against the wall in the far corner of the room, her sheathed sword pressed up against her as she prepared to sleep. Izayoi had ate at the banquet because there'd been no warning of her coming, no time to poison anything. But now the Limbtaker's presence was known throughout the castle. There was a better chance than not that someone would hold enough of a grudge from the war to attempt to take revenge against her, and she would not be caught unawares. Frankly, any mutilated survivors ought to be thanking her for preserving their lives, even if that hadn't been her actual intent. After a few months of the war, the Edrenians had begun calling her the Limbtaker most of all, due to her propensity to simply lop a foot or hand off of any common soldier who stood against her in battle without pressing her enough to necessitate killing. Why? Because it was simple logistics. A dead soldier could be left in the field to rot. A maimed cripple required one or two more men to drag him back to camp, where he'd take up supplies and infirmary space for treatment before he was inevitably drummed out of the army. It was a monstrous thing to do. Among many other acts she'd committed. Izayoi had become a monster to defend her home, and yet nothing she'd done had been worth it in the end. With a frown, she shut her eyes and-

She heard movement. Izayoi was up on her feet in an instant, one hand resting on the hilt of her katana as a group of armored men barged into the room, guns and swords pointed at the inhabitants within. For someone who'd been fighting their ilk for months, their identity was unmistakable. 

[color=#736AFF][b]"Valheim."[/b][/color] She snarled, baring her teeth as she tightened her grip on her sword. Time seemed to slow in her eyes as adrenaline surged through her, the call to battle singing in her blood. In an enclosed space, she held the advantage against riflemen, their longarms too unwieldy to rapidly shift their aim. 

Izayoi shot forward, her stance low as she unleashed her blade in a flash of steel. Her first strike was an iaijutsu slash, cutting through the barrels of the gunmen's rifles. They'd have to commit to close combat should they wish to kill now. Her second move was to take advantage of their shock and bring her sword whirling around, outright decapitating a Valheimian soldier as she cut through where she knew their plate armor had weak points.

[color=#736AFF][b]"Their armor is thinnest where the plates meet! Armpits, neck, and between the legs! Mage, you have room to cast!"[/b][/color] She barked out commands, falling into her element as the remaining soldiers drew blades and circled her warily. 

[color=#736AFF][b]"Come, wretches! Before dawn, your heads will hang from this castle's gates!"[/b][/color]