[center][h3][color=C0392B]Rudolf Sagramore[/color][/h3][/center]

[@The Otter][@Psyker Landshark][@Izurich]

A game smirk played across the slight young man's face, shifting the blade into position betwixt his fingers behind the back. He summoned up phantoms from the past in his bearing as his gold eyes measured the assured grip of the Valheimr ahead, the distance between them, the barrel breathing down his nose. What would [i]that[/i] man say, to kick this off...

[color=c0392b]"Only a warning— You don't have the [i]caliber[/i] to make that happen."[/color]

Blades flashed, and as one, Kirin was free to turn the tables.

[color=c0392b][i]Scary! This was way too scary! Esben, how the hell did you con me into agreeing to this?! He was gonna shoot the both of us! And get some kinda kick out of it, too![/i][/color]

His shortsword, light and fast, found its way up to guard first as he pivoted off to the left in a burst of speed, interposing the blade between his body and the barrel of the sergeant's pistol— and as luck would have it, the sudden force would likely knock the Valheimr's extended arm into the bloody arc of Izayoi's [i]iai[/i] strike before the smirk could even leave his face.

She'd handle him. He surged forward, both blades drawn now, weaving between the storm of flame Eve loosed as he bore down upon the soldiers intended to receive them, targetting first any of the men that seemed to have communications equipment on-hand— the further they could prolong the period before alarm was raised, the better. Less chance of the Valheimr moving Lord Hien ahead of schedule.

He crashed into their ranks, a one-man wedge to dominate their immediate attention.