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

[color=c0392b]"Hold,"[/color] the young swordsman called to the rest of Team Kirin, lowering the visor of his great helm as he stepped forward to the head of their rough line drawn along the hillside. He'd caught the malicious gleam in Izayoi's gaze when the Valheimr infantry had crested the rise, and knew it was doubtless mirrored on at least a couple faces behind him. He didn't have an issue with the sentiment, being so beholden to a charging instinct of his own—

But another pillar of flame rose in the distance, echoed by a howling wind. They were right to tail the airship once they'd spotted it here, even after having already been behind schedule— after the corruption that had befallen Famfrit, as well as the interference with both of Drana Asnaeu's Eidolons, it would be outright lunacy to ignore a flight path that bore straight down onto the holy ground of Garuda. The arctic winds of Skael were harsh and biting enough by half even before the prospect of being turned [i]against[/i] the land entered the fray.

His palm closed around the dull, earthen orb that had settled into his materia pouch during their forced march south, and he waited, measuring distance, speed, angle, and step. They didn't have a moment to spare bogged down by this lot, so if he could spend a half-second now...

[color=c0392b][i]There.[/i][/color]

He could knock off at least half a minute total.

The closest of the blackhelms had to catch himself as the angle of the earth beneath the snowfall changed and his downward momentum slipped out of his hands— the cue Rudolf was waiting for. He flooded the Quake Materia with aether, enough to loosen and jostle the earth beneath the invaders' feet at the front of their line. The men in the lead staggered or fell,[sup]1[/sup] and the men behind them suddenly had to fight to not crash into them in one big pileup, stifling their charge at the very least—

Pulling Anders's Greatsword free, the black man-at-arms dropped his weight forward, almost in a sprinter's stance as flecks of tenebrous cinder caught in the icy wind that buffeted at the profaned plate, clearing accumulated rime as they went.[sup]2[/sup] His voice sounded again, releasing the tension waiting had built up like an arrow from a bow.

[color=c0392b]"[i]Alright, go![/i]"[/color]

And then he was off, his and all their charges very much unhindered as they fell upon the Valheimr like wolves.

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[*][sub]1. All that buildup, just for the exact same ideas to manifest. It's like Gravity never left. You're that guy that that always plays a Battlemaster and always picks Trip Attack. It's a "working system", don't get me wrong, but so are taxes, bean counters, [i]subsistence farming[/i], and rules of three.[/sub]
[*][sub]2. Not just for the aesthetics of it, this is me contributing a little to upkeep on top of the regular oiling and all that, like good roommates taking out the trash of their own volition before we have to bust out a chore list that half of them are too fundamentally [b]fucking[/b] illiterate to adhere to anyway.[/sub]
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