As the adventurers tumbled out of the inn, groggy and drained as they were, Hanzo could only stand and hold his ground at the incoming armament of raiders. They were clearly far more armed than before, even boasting a couple of spell-casters on their side; clearly, these slavers held a far larger operation than any of them had anticipated. In spite of their own beaten-down condition, Hanzo hoped that the adventurers could prove to be more fortunate than their foes.
A great fog began to roll over the town - the work of the enemy mage, it seemed - and Hanzo steeled himself for the assault. That spell-caster was going to be a major problem if he was allowed to lob out any more magic, especially in a layer of obscuring mist. At least for the time being, the monk could sense and see the bandits coming from about 10 feet in front of him, assuredly bearing more clarity than they. Regardless, the enemy charged on, one of the flanks breaking off to aim for the lone martial artist.
Upon the horse, a thief relinquished his reigns in order to pull out a pair of daggers, tightening his heels upon his mount's flanks to steady himself. He flicked out his arm, and one of the daggers went sailing at Hanzo while the horse still came clomping forth. The monk gave his foe less polity this time; diving under the flying knife, Hanzo turned on a hell and threw himself into the side of the charging mount. While it worked to knock the horse off-course to the side somewhat, it also more accurately struck at the thief's taut leg, for a single moment pinching it painfully between Hanzo's shoulder and the mount's flank. As the teetering stallion clomped off aside to regain its own composure, the rider quite unexpectedly found himself thrown off, his sudden leg pain forfeiting his balance.
Hanzo's attention shot back to where the thief rode in from, expecting more bandits to follow. Tuning out the commotion elsewhere, the monk was just able to distinguish the sight of another flying blade as it heaved itself from the fog. Hanzo sidestepped the projectile, a hand axe, with ease, allowing himself a wider motion to ensure he wouldn't suffer an errant cut like last time. Another axe flew out, and Hanzo dove down and forth to avoid it when the sight of two bandits entered his vision from the mist.
Leading the pair was the larger of the two, toting a large warhammer and plate armor. Behind that one was a more hunched-over warrior, bearing less plates but wielding a hand axe - the source of those other thrown axes, presumably. Before he could confirm the thought, the hammer bandit charged at Hanzo with gruesome intent.
The man was big and powerful, but also slow and hefty, and he gave ample time for Hanzo to wind up a heavy punch of his own; the glowing aura growing in his fist cleverly disguised by the light-bathed fog. In the moment that his foe wound up the decisive swing, the monk sprung forth and plunged his fist right into the breastplate with a solid crack - there was a split second before the bandit warrior suddenly recoiled in pain, the wind knocked from his chest and the momentum in his attack lost. Hanzo, meanwhile, did well to hide the fact that the crack came from his own hand.
Hanzo wasted no time in rearing back, opening his fists and mashing his palms together with a clap. He quickly channeled his energy again, focusing within his closed hands and creating a glow of teal light. The bandit's next attempt to attack was instead stopped as soon as it started, a blast of raw power slamming him in the face and knocking him down.
A third axe flew out from the surrounding fog, but it seemed to go wide on the monk's position - until a knife plunged itself into Hanzo's shoulder blade, reflexively urging him to the side. Unable to recover in time to dodge, Hanzo forced his arms up to take the blow from the thrown axe... but then it fizzled right through him with no quarrel. After a brief moment of confounding, he realized that the axe must've been an illusion, but that sharp pain in his shoulder had to be real. The thief must've gotten up! Hanzo whirled around to find the slander bandit drawing another knife, tossing it in his grip-
And then he failed to notice a real hand axe being thrown at him until its whistling entered his ears. He desperately backpedaled away, but too late, the axe smacked itself vertically into the center of Hanzo's ribcage. The monk stamped his foot to the ground, regaining his balance, but he continued to fight to stay standing given the two weapons lodged in his body.
As if it couldn't get any worse, the area he stood then suddenly exploded in flames.
The burst of heat working slightly to dispel the fog in the immediate area, the axe bandit glanced back behind him. Stepping beyond the wall of archers, the fire mage shot a curt smile to the two armored bandits, his hands still wisping with heat from the fire blast.
"Dammit, Cade!" The axe bandit spat out suddenly, turning aside to face the mage, "I had that one!"
Shaking out the curls of residual smoke from his hand, the robed man gave a provoking chuckle. "Oh, Wick, of course you did. I was merely speeding up the process."
"Seriously!?" Wick stomped, and his partner snapped up, drawing his attention to the infighting. "What's the point of making 'em suffer if you just keep blasting 'em to bits!?"
"Uh, hey guys-" a faint male voice rung out from behind Wick. The other bandit warrior took a glance aside, and suddenly fought harder to get up.
"If you knew anything about my magic," Cade retorted to the arrogant axe bandit, getting notably more annoyed, "Then you might actually delight in knowing that it's the burning that kills them, not the-"
"GUYS-!" Another cry, followed by a sharp clashing of blades. The bickering pair finally turned around...
A painful smack echoed out, and with a fresh red sore on his face, the thief tumbled to the ground in a harsh spin, roiling in pain. Standing over him was the monk, terribly scorched and blood drizzling down his chest, but well alive. With a second wind and a heaping of adrenaline, he had deflected the thief's vain effort to defend himself and promptly nailed him with a heel kick to the jaw. Already, the warhammer bandit was getting ready for his next assault, as Hanzo ever so subtly shifted his grip on the weapons previously stuck in him.
A furious Wick was first to act, however, swinging his other axe in a wide curvature to desperately try and claim superiority. Snapping up his own axe and knife, the monk deflected the hand axe upward and followed with a swift toss of his arm, slinging the knife in a counter-attack. Unable to avoid it, the bandit tried to shield himself but ended up with the blade lodged in his arm, ensuing a cry of pain. The other bandit warrior quickly began his own attack, this time a mighty leaping overhead strike that Hanzo couldn't knock him from. And indeed, the monk didn't even try to do so, but instead dove forward to roll under the attack and behind the bandit.
Caught off-guard, the fighter was nigh-helpless as the axe was plunged into his spine. The piercing strike shot overwhelming pain throughout his body, paralyzing him, and the bandit collapsed to the ground. Hanzo's fierce gaze returned to the mage, and the two found themselves locking eyes.
Cade was already preparing another spell, more deadly than a simple fireball. A painfully furious Wick, meanwhile, charged at Hanzo with his fisticuffs alone. The martial artist would have to fend off the closer threat first, and so infused surges of Ki into his fists. Wick's strikes were quick but thrown wide, and Hanzo was able to parry and scrape past them to land his own Ki Strikes on the bandit. These blows were not as focused, however, and so Hanzo's punches could not penetrate his foe's armor well enough to fell him.
The angry warrior, visibly running out of steam, suddenly tried to force himself forward, looking to grapple the monk and crunch him in his grip. A big mistake, as Hanzo was able to quickly shift himself and turn the tides to his own favor. The fire mage finished his magic chants with a final yell, and thinking fast, the monk heaved the exasperated bandit over his shoulder at Cade. A violent comet of fire erupted from the spell-caster's palms, and Wick exploded into flames on contact, tumbling to the ground in a sizzling heap.
Now visibly panicked with his spells being thwarted, the fire mage called out for help, siccing his familiar at the monk. It dove at Hanzo with a screeching cry, trying to claw at the man's head, but Hanzo managed to parry the attacks with his arms, scratching himself less vitally. His attempt to whip the bird away was short lived when it flew out and circled around for another dive. This time, Hanzo focused himself in his stance, and managed to intercept the fly-by with a round kick, knocking the hawk to the ground.
The mage was attempting to chant a quicker incantation, but it was not fast enough, Hanzo able to lunge out and knock the caster to the ground with a flying kick. He leaped upon the downed slaver, taking the lapel of his robes in one hand and raising the other to punch him out cold. With fear plastered upon his face, the mage cried out, "No, wait!"
The monk hesitated, his battle face turning into a scowl. With the opportunity to speak, the man choked out, "Y-you are certainly a powerful fighter - why waste such talent defending this poor village?"
Retaining his scowl, Hanzo took but a second to respond, "You are a wielder of great arcane power. Why waste it on terrorizing such a 'poor' village?"
Fear returned to the mage's visage for a moment, followed promptly by anger, and yet more promptly by a curt, defeated chuckle. "Clever, too... ah, well." Pursing his lips, Cade blew out a shrill whistle that led the blood hawk to claw at Hanzo's head again. With a final cry, he finished his incantation, shoving his scorching palms into Hanzo's exposed chest. "Burning Hands!"
Several moments passed, the flesh scorching under his press, but the monk's gaze only grew more furious as he struggled. Finally, his hand stole a grip on the hawk's neck, twisting into a tight fist that choked the air out of the bird. Horror reclaimed the desperate mage one last time before the fist finally drove down, slamming his skull into the ground and concussing him instantly. Opening his hand, the choked bird fell limp aside its master's head, the last of its life leaving it.
With heaving pants of breath and a painful groan, Hanzo stood up, his adrenaline wearing thin. His skin was burnt and raw in many places, his muscles ached in strain, his head and arms bled with harsh scratches and his chest burned very painfully. If nothing else, at least the gash on his chest was cauterized, leaving a dark scar around a splash of burnt skin, but even then, his ribcage was still pierced from that wound. Much like this whole encounter, it was a far cry from what he had dealt with merely an hour before.
Wiping blood on his forehead away from his eyes, Hanzo raised a hand and weakly called for Sister Agnes, slowly retracing himself down his path of carnage and defeated bodies.