Bleach Hereafter RPG

Genuinely when they decided to go on a little romp outside of Hueco Mundo, see some more of what has become of the World of the Living to a city who's name they still don't know, Milya had not thought that the mass gathering of tortured slaves and some kind of sadistic, powerful drive master would be part of it. They had fleetingly heard about some unknown foe said by someone, sometime, when they hadn't been fully paying attention and probably were painting their claws - no, fingernails. But still. This is far outside what they had expected. Buildings torn from the ground, killing random, confused souls... this does seem certainly wrong. Even by their standards, which aren't all that high. Death for death's sake... is a particular breed of sadistic, or cold.

They themselves were positioned on a tall building until they realised that it was most likely a recipe for disaster if it were to collapse, so used some strategically placed windowsills and sonido in equal combination to get back down to street level, rubble dusting the ground. They pass a number of screaming civillains, grasping a few of their belongings as they run away from the carnage. Those people... most likely have no idea what's happening, either. Makes quite the interesting plot twist for them, but not knowing the reasoning or even why their homes were collapsing in their home must be horrifying.

Regardless of the human turmoil, though, Milya keeps going. Towards the area where these buildings are collapsing, and where the truly disgusting amount of reiatsu was being emitted from, more out of curiosity than an intent to do anything about it. They did want to do something about it. this seems strange, and cultish, but they alone couldn't do anything. Well, they could, but they would most likely be killed, meaninglessly, and that seems a disappointing end to their story.

Approaching the hub of destruction, Milya leans against the corner, observing, and pulling out a pen, starting to scrawl what's happening onto their arm. The disturbing, incomprehensible technological stack, the man with the whip, the unfortunate, chained souls. Even if the ink rubbed off them, or got covered in rubble-dust, they would remember it better this way. That way, they can report it back to Ehtore more accurately, something they are sure that she'd appreciate. Especially given the... seeming scale of this destruction. Well, if nothing else, it should be interesting. If a little tragic.

Walking calmly through the streets was a man dressed in entirely black traditional japanese robes. With a white cross armband on his left arm. He has a sword in his belt by his side, and is carrying a backpack with the same white cross emblazoned on the back.

Steven found himself confused with the building structures around him, he wasn't used to all this new-tech, he hadn't been in the World of the Living for centuries. He took a deep breath, remembering his training with the 4'th division. He was stationed nearby to provide aid for another operation, but was told to keep a lookout here. Typical he thought, since he is often set on tasks that takes him away from the group, as bait.

If he sees any recently deceased, he will attempt Soul Burial on them to send them to Soul Society for a new chance. He disliked this destruction, and slowly moved closer to the epicenter, expecting resistance, expecting danger. But at this point, he just desires the meaningless violence to end.

Preparing himself for combat, he tries to sense the reishi in the air around him to locate people or creatures of power within his search radius. Given his skillset, he is hoping there are others he can join, instead of initating by himself.
"Please, Please, let there be someone nearby, I don't care who you are."

"Oh and what is this bullshit now?" Itsuki whispered under his breath.
    In one hand an open pill bottle, in the other a glass of water. Through the cheap white plastic of his venetian blinds the daylight shone upon his bare chest and the towel slung over his shoulder. The bartending monk was squinting against the feeble light, out into the chaos unfolding in the streets.
He'd decided to stop off in Nagoya for a weekend off visiting a university friend who was being the biggest tourist they could of Japan in general. Reiatsu lapped over him in waves like the sun at the beach, apparently unperturbed by something so trivial as a wall or window.
For a flinching moment a well of warm waters in his heart pushed up, lapping at the back of his eyes with the threat of tears as a flighty thought wished for the company of a certain someone missing from the picture. Swallowing the feelings with his pills and mouthful of water, the young adult itched at the still healing skin about his eye from the last occasion like this one.
    Hell, above the other eye and both of his arms from fingers to elbows were still bandaged up, not to mention the huge plaster about the gash on his leg.
With a sigh, the monk pulled on his habitual almost-formal attire with a few grunts and grumbles of pain, gave himself a quick spray of deodorant to avoid coming home smelling like a bloody sewer again.
    Some reassurance to the tourist to stay indoors for today for municipal reasons later, the half-gauze, half-man strode out into the street as chaos unfolded. Hand upon the unbruised hip, Itsuki tutted away as the city centre seemed to be sporting the kind of renovation crews that made you wish for SDF or union action. Pulling on those old familiar leather gloves, the bartender started his walk towards the direction just about everyone seemed to be running from. Well, save those with smartphones and the emergency services.

The Demon lowered his whip, staring off into the sky, briefly sniffing, as if smelling some foul odor emitted by someone in his vicinity. Something was wrong, he could feel it.

The heroes - Arrancar, Shinigami or Fullbringer alike - may have definitely been able to register the intimidating presence of his Reiatsu in the city centre, but he could notice their approach with his sixth sense as well, even if, at the moment, it was difficult to perceive exactly where these new arrivals were. There were so many mortals scattered across the entire city, after all.

"I expected intervention, of course, but only after..." the man muttered to himself, and turned towards the pyramid-like contraption behind his back. "...after this went online..." At that point, it would be impossible for him to hide, after all. The fact that he might soon be getting company so early was... not good for the Demon Kingdom's grand plan.

An ornate book materialized into existence next to the Demon's hand, floating besides him and occasionally flipping its pages. It was a Grimoire, the focus of a Demon's power, much like a Zanpakuto was for the Shinigami. For now, however, he did not make a move. Not when he still has plenty of peons to throw to the problem.

"Listen, you trash!" he suddenly yelled, with an empowered voice that echoed across the entire city district. "We're changing our plans. The Amplifier is almost complete, so enough with the mindless teardown! Start hunting for anyone with an above average Reiatsu that you can find. I want zero, and I mean zero, interruption during the process."

Several dozen Sinners dropped what they were doing and began lumbering through the streets - they too possessed the ability to sense Reiatsu, although the masks and bandages on their faces, and the invisible chains that constantly tethered them to their master to make sure they do not run away, made it so they were not very effective at their job. The most they could do was follow their instincts, and then lunge at whoever they found.

---

The fighting has begun! There is no Initiative, so you are free to attack Sinners in your post as you please - though it is not mandatory, they are by no means difficult to get away from.

Itsuki Hasegawa Steve Milya Ilanos

THE SINNERS



THE DEMON - ? ? ?
Not yet in battle.

It staggeringly hadn't occurred to Milya that even on the off chance that none of these trash spotted them, as the ringleader called them, that they would be able to sense Milya's reiatsu. But all of a sudden, dozens of bandaged humanoids were lurching in their direction.

Abandoning the pen and shoving it back in their pocket, they step out into the middle of the street. "Okay!" They call, loudly, smiling. There's clearly others around, and they know how sturdy they are. They know they can draw fire away from others who might be able to hit harder. Besides, they adore being the centre of attention. "If you're all searching for someone powerful, all you had to do was ask! Unfortunately, since it is me that you found, the time has come for you to perish." Milya shuts their eyes for a few moments, focusing their energies, grin still present as the purple-ish marks along their face briefly light up a bright white. Within an instant, six sets of bubble like constructs zip out from their spots and around them, glowing a light magenta. Just as they materialise, Milya's eyes snap open again, feline, their rabid grin widening unnaturally across their face. It had been a long time since they'd had a good fight.

A brief moment passes as Milya looks to their blade, before they shake their head. Not today. Their fingers pierce into two of the floating projectiles, making their nails look like they grow, and glow that same noxious pink, ending out in pink tips. Their foot kicks off from the ground, concrete cracking from the force as they launch themselves towards the incoming hoarde, making two wide, fast slashes, aiming for as many fatalities as they can muster. The corpses would be good snacks for once this was all over, after all.

---

COMBAT TRACKER
1d100+5·2d6·1d100+5·2d6

"I sense.. Yes.. Resistance!" 'Excellent' Steve thought to himself as he places his hand on his sword and kept walking down the emptying street. He was definietly sweating, he rarely gets to fight non-shinigami. But he slaps both of his cheeks to focus "This is not about being a hero, its about minimizing casualties, no time to feel cool, no time to feel superior, this is the time I make my Division proud."

He points forward with his other hand ahead of him, nervously coughing before once again yelling: "If you are looking for a fight, pick on someone your own size!"
Steve takes a deep breath, he takes another. 'Shit' he thought to himself 'I've really done it now, Captain Avasarala, forgive your foolish follower!
He slaps his cheeks again, leaving them rosy red as he prepares himself for the worst, at the end of today, somebody will die, and Steve is going to do his best to ensure that it isn't him or anyone who isn't that demon.

---

COMBAT TRACKER
1d100+10·1d5+0·1d100+10·1d5+0

"You've all spent too much time in the cave with Izanami, eh?" Quipped the priest against the advancing, shambling hordes of beleaguered undead. He assumed they were anyway. Their reiatsu was rancid and they appeared to be directed as easily as toy soldiers.
    These unholy creatures were surely driven by one with an insatiable love for the dead. Even from here the pious man swore he could smell carrion on the breath of the one barking orders.
    Itsuki gave a grumbling groan against the dull throbbing pains as he moved to pray. A meagre offering for the stench and sight of the mindless thrice-damned. Still, their shapes were human.
    Hunchbacked and crooked dead, still wearing marks from the noose, crawling all over the streets made easy targets. Dripping with orphaic and inzanamic sins, their silhouette and the pangs of hesitation were soon drowned by the sharp pains of the molten nails drilling into skin and bone as his fullbring cemented.
    The faint trickle of blood sizzled away in a small puff of cauterising black fire from the wounds, reiatsu flaring like a beacon. Conscious effort shifted the invisible third eye of his mind open, attentive and probing to the chaotic surroundings. The putrid sun burning above their lessers was near that junk-heap, some person or another apparently also digging into the buffet of bastards and beggars some measure away. Judging by their aura, perhaps literally. Wiping clear the remnants of watery eyes the priest took a deep, clear breath and pushed up the warmest smile he could. It was the least he could do to offer them a glimpse of compassion before returning the defiled flesh to ash.
    Prayers offered, compassion shown, the pious amateur set to a work of war against hell. Itsuki's expression hardened, turning stern against the bloody work. Three of four nails decorating his clavicle faded away. Outstretched hands dripping in ink-black flames painted tomoe in the air, a swift trio of    drumbeats sounding out with a crackle of lightning marking each note of the tempo.
    The sizzling white brilliance was aimed the best he could manage through the superficial swelling and aching of the week prior. He tutted at the results of pushing soul and sinew, wincing as the fire faded from his fingers and hands fell back to his sides.
"Come on, I can do better than that..." Itsuki lamented, agitated by his own slow recovery.

Combat Tracker

42,000 RL
0 Armour
50/50 HP
132/150 Reishi -18 (E. Byakurai, Byakurai x 2 (6x3))
d6 DMG
15 ACC +5 (10 Fighting + 5 Sense)
60DEF +10 (50 base + 5 Reflexes + 5 Sense)

1d100+15·1d6·1d100+15·1d6·1d100+15·1d6

Milya's lunge and sword cut easily sliced through an unfortunate Sinner in their path, slashing apart the mask and bandages which obscured its true form and revealed a toiling condemned soul underneath, looking not unlike a human. If the Arrancar was hoping to feast upon the bodies of the Sinners they cut apart, however, they were soon faced with an unfortunate reveal - as subjects of Hell, Sinners could only stay in this dimension as long as they are completely covered from the watchful eye of the Kushanada, and cutting up the bandages covering them removed exactly that.

A massive stone gate opened in the sky, and a blade shot forth from it, impaling the defeated Sinner and pulling it back into the dimension where it belongs. The other Sinners raised their faces to watch the dragging, it caught the attention of the Demon, as well.

"Oh..."

Another one of Milya's slashes was blocked by the forearm of another Sinner, and then pushed back. Not far from them, Steve announced his presence took aim at another tormented soul - it avoided the incoming stab, but the slash forced the Sinner back, though it did not take them down yet. The other Sinners were still slumbering forth, pushing themselves through the streets, following after the reiatsu of the two wannabe heroes.

An Arrancar and a Shinigami. Witnessing their arrival, their determination to battle, the Demon let out a laugh and jumped down from the fountain, landing his feet on the tiled street below. Right as he did, a powerful flash of lightning and fire rolled across the surroundings, consuming several Sinners in its path, breaking each of their masks and sending them down the same Gate as Milya's victim. It was a Fullbringer.

"A human..." Dark haired, frustrated. He put up quite a show with his technique - still, it did not intimidate the Demon. He spread his arms to the sides and announced:

"I sincerely hope this is not all the Gotei 13 can muster to stop me - I'd even be a little offended at their act, then. Surely, I, Count Castonath, deserve a little more than just a few children who can barely swing a sword," With his hand, he gestured to the remaining Sinners. "Kill them all, and be done with it."

Though they had suffered a few casualties, the Sinners lunged forward with the same ferocity as before - aiming to pile up on the three fighters and take them down with sheer numbers.

---

Itsuki Hasegawa Steve Milya Ilanos

THE SINNERS



THE DEMON - COUNT CASTONATH
Not yet in battle.
1d100+30·3d8

Milya falls back, just in time to view their previously very appetising looking snack become impaled through a fiery gate, and dragged through, alongside many more who slain by the flash of bright, intense magic. These... are definitely not human, then, and definitely not edible. Though, before they could get too caught up in that moment, the man, the Count, Castonath - what kind of name was Castonath? Well, evidently the kind of name that belongs to a patronising prick, one that shouts about Milya and the others fighting being children. How degrading, and patronising. They couldn't speak for the others, but they were no child. They were just weak.

The burning anger in their chest only got distracted from as the hoard launched itself at them, hands clawing at their flesh. With a growl and a hiss of resentment at having to resort to their damned sword, Milya yanks their blade free of their belt, blocking the blow that was sure to have hit into them by the countless bandaged souls, using the edge of the blade to give them a taste of their own medicine.

The longsword-like blade is sheathed almost as quickly as it was drawn as Milya glares at the Count, before turning their attention back to the surrounding sinners. "What are you all looking at?" they snap loudly, "You're all just cannon fodder, so get out of the way!" The magenta flashes across their nails as their focus snaps inwards, claws tearing towards the throats of these souls, some more words escaping in a half snarl, "What kind of weakling has to wield a sword to kill people, anyway?!"

---

COMBAT TRACKER

1d100+20·2d6·1d100+20·2d6

Steve expresses shock on his face. 'So this is what a sinner truly is!? How horrific!'
There is a foul smell in the air and it leads his sight on the Arrancar Milya Ilanos, while Steve does not know what an Arrancar is, he does know there is the smell of Hollow around their Reiatsu.
This distracts him from the battle momentarily, but the shock of Pale lightning originating from the human priest, turned his attention back to the horde of sinners.

"Whoa!" He bows forward to avoid the Sinners blow, as their blow carries over, it's energy carries into the building behind Steve, it now has a huge claw mark and the foundation is shaky at best. Steve realises this is a bad position to be in. But then hears Milya say "What kind of weakling has to wield a sword to kill people, anyway?!" Steve yells out "First of all, swords aren't for killing people! Second, good idea!" Steve sidesteps the horde of sinners infront of him, making sure they are between him and the building they slashed.

"Count! Know that I am not the best the Gotei 13 got, I'm nowhere close! And let that be your lesson when I somehow stand victorious!"
He sheathes his sword, claps his hands together and quickly starts chanting.

"Stark light, come forth and strike thine incandescent light through the darkness that blocks the way. Let black creatures known thine pulsing force and overwhelming burst, Byakurai! Double!"

After Steves combat actions, he would ask out to Milya and Itsuki

"By the way, you two.. Can we agree to deal with the count together? I'll back both of you up, thats my divisions speciality!"

---

COMBAT TRACKER
1d100+25·2d5+0·1d100+25·2d5+0

Right, feudal era thinking. It at least explained all the grand posturing and dramatic sweeps. Two voices drawing into focus snatched his attention up from the meandering mass of bodies they were all enmeshed with. Apparently, they were shouting something important about being a proud but weak member of the ghost plod and bragging broadly about some kind of hand to hand combat prowess. Cool.
    The monk itched at the reforming nails in his clavicle, wondering if the other week really had been the end of normalcy.
Itsuki concealed his disapproval at the notion swords were for anything but killing beneath his stern, frosty expression and smoothed out his almost-formal attire.
    Recitations of mantra as part of a group and kendo lessons had at least taught him to project his voice.
    "I am Itsuki Hasegawa, a loyal worshipper of Nezu Shrine and monk of Chuson-ji!" Called out the supposed warrior-monk, voice echoing about the length of the street.
    Perhaps it reached the leader of the rabble, perhaps not. Regardless, it was time to deal with the clasping hands lunging for him. By the time his mouth had closed again, the monk's posturing and watching another couple of random allies instead of his own safety had left him exposed.
    Sinners lunged. Itsuki reached for a nail, a wide-mouthed sinner and his two cohorts already upon him. Knuckles cracked against his jaw, a knee smashing into the side of his ribs. Vision blackened, ears rang. The ghost of old footwork saved him kissing the ground, stumbling and staggering. Blurry eyes focused as the tinny taste of where he'd bitten his cheek met his tongue. He hadn't been hit fist to flesh in what felt like a good long while.
    Itsuki plucked two nails free before the things could gather their wits enough to strike again. Molten iron faded and black fire shaped in the air. Again the drumbeats sounded. Again the white lightning scorched towards the creatures with a flash. Somewhere between anger and shame he had chosen to stand his ground here and thin out the horde. No response to the others was forthcoming any time soon.

Combat Tracker

42,000 RL
0 Armour
44/50 HP -6
120/150 Reishi -12 (Byakurai x 2 (6x2))
d6 DMG
15 ACC +5 (10 Fighting)
60DEF +10 (50 base + 5 Reflexes)

1d100+10·2d6·1d100+10·2d6

The wannabe heroes were starting to argue amongst themselves, it seems - the Arrancar yelled, furious, that using a sword to cut up enemies was pointless, to which the Shinigami fighting besides them tried to rebut. The sound of the yelling reached Count Castonath's ears, to his amusement. What was not amusing, however, was the destruction which the trio left in their wake, trying to push themselves to the Demon. Milya slashed through a handful of Sinners with brute force, and was followed by Steve's Byakurai, which shocked and struck a whole pack of the tormented souls, breaking their masks one after another and sending them through the Gates of Hell.

The Fullbringer introduced himself, and the Shinigami declared that even though he recognizes his weakness, he was apparently confident that he could win regardless.

Now that was definitely amusing.

"I am sure you will," Castonath answered with a voice dripping with sarcasm. While the Sinners banded together to avoid and block the fires and lightning unleashed by Itsuki, containing the destruction this time, the Demon approached the constructed monolith. While it was not entirely complete, it was functional at this point - and he wasn't going to find the peace of mind to put the last touches at this point.

So, Castonath placed his hand upon the monolith and trailed his finger across the pages of his floating Grimoire, muttering under his breath in Latin while injecting his Reiatsu into the construct. It lit up with bright light and fired a narrow beam into the air, where it scattered to all of the cardinal directions.

Something... changed.

For a moment, if any of the heroes fighting the Sinner horde could sense Reiatsu, they would see their senses briefly shut down - almost as if they were overloaded, or blinded. When this sixth sense returned, it was... wobbly. Flashes of powerful Reiatsu energies would appear and disappear in the senses, to an almost disorienting matter.

Castonath giggled under his breath, and turned to face the heroes. I have done my job, you bastard. Now, all I need to do is dispatch of these runts, and I can escape.

"Feels nauseating, doesn't it?" the Demon announced, stepping down from the monolith and approaching the battlefield with open arms. For a few moments, the Sinners ceased attacking, stepping away from the enemies who were massacring their ranks. "The ability granted to me by my Grimoire allows me to manipulate any individual's ability to sense Reiatsu - toying with it, making them see things they should not, and seeping into the other, natural senses, like sight and hearing, to disorient them no matter their strength or stature."

Castonath pulled out his whip, it lighting on fire and leaving a trail of smoke and flame across the air as he walked. "With this Amplifier, however, crafted by the brightest minds of the Demon Kingdom... my ability grows to enormous heights. For a second, I can knock out the senses of the entirety of the dimensions. The World of the Living, Soul Society, the others... For everyone living, it appeared like nothing more than a brief fluke, and yet... that is enough to make our grand plan come to fruition."

With a flick of the Demon's hand, the Sinners charged forward again - this time, with their master standing among them, slowly walking forward and inviting anyone to take a swing.

"Sadly, none of you will get to see its fruit, as you will die here by my hand."

---

Itsuki Hasegawa Steve Milya Ilanos

THE SINNERS



THE DEMON - COUNT CASTONATH

---

Ribbons of green paper flew across the air above the suspended bridge that led towards the narrow entrance to the Fifth Division Barracks. Synchronized with the burst of illusory Reiatsu that caused momentary sensory blindness across Soul Society, two beings now stood on the ancient wood, staring towards the gate.

One, a woman with purple hair and a long cloak, tapped a finger onto the Grimoire floating next to her. A burst of energy unleashed itself from her fingertips, activating a spell in seconds. Satisfied, she smirked and spoke:

"It is complete, Master Akira. You can strike safely."

The person she was speaking to was a tall man with white hair, holding a sheathed Zanpakuto in his hand. Hearing his subordinate's confirmation, Akira faintly smiled.

"Let's hope this is more interesting than the island. It is my home, after all..."

By now, the two Fifth Division Shinigami who were assigned to guard duty by the front door, and were spending their time plotting how to sneak into the next gathering of the Shinigami Women's Association, noticed the two arrivals. The first of the two guards, a short chubby man, yelled:

"Hey! Only members of the Fifth Division and authorized individuals are allowed to be on the grounds of the Division Headquarters! Identify yourself and leave if you are neither!"

"Wait, did those two just teleport here...?" the other Shinigami, a tall and lanky swordsman, muttered in slight shock. "Isn't that... illegal?"

Akira stared down the two Shinigami and then walked forward, seemingly ignorant of their demands. Immediately, they lowered their hands to the handles of their blades. The first guard kept sending warnings:

"Don't move!.. I told you, this place is restricted!.." Nothing seemed to work. "Alright, you asked for it!" Drawing his Zanpakuto, the Shinigami guard charged forward, and swung his weapon. Before he could even touch Akira, however, he was suddenly blown back by a massive concussive force. It alone ripped through the man's uniform and slashed through his body in several places, leaving bleeding, painful wounds that forced the man to the ground. That was not a technique, an attack or anything - Akira did not even twitch a muscle. It was merely his passive Reiatsu, so dense and powerful that it blew back a trained Shinigami with its presence alone.

Walking past the knocked out Shinigami, Akira briefly looked down towards him and muttered:

"And you were supposed to be the guards? A more just Soul Society wouldn't even allow people like you to exist."

The other Shinigami was cowering and searching his uniform's pockets for his Denreishinki - he had no illusion that he could possibly stop this monster, but perhaps someone else will? The Captain, or, maybe... Where is everyone? Why hasn't anyone noticed this bastard? He's letting out so much Reiatsu that he could melt an average Plus by just standing there! No matter what number he tried to dial, however, the device simply wouldn't work. It had never broken down like this before.

"What-what is going on...? This-this can't be real, right...?" the man yelped, backing away from the approaching Akira - through the gate into the Division Barracks, and further.

---

Ignore this. Rolls broke for a second and I tried to reroll but it turns out everything is fine.

SINNERS
Accuracy - 1d100+30
Damage - 3d8

CASTONATH
Status - 1d100
1d100·1d100·1d100·1d100+30·3d8·1d100·1d100+30·3d8·1d100

For the longest of moments, Milya was forced to be still, the nausea hitting their head suddenly, like bright light flashes, disorienting everything. But, they focused, blocking out their sixth sense for long enough to see just with their eyes the hoarde parting, and the speech of this Count, one that made their blood boil, visibly, their muscles tensing, teeth baring, but they control themselves. This is how it always happens, someone gets rash, and dies because they didn't think before acting against someone they know is more powerful, and this man, this demon, whatever it was they were stood before was definitely stronger than them, given his reiatsu, and... well, plans for multi-world domination. And army of the damned. They have to be smart about this. Milya glances across at the others - a shinigami, a person they would ordinarily kill, or run from, and an inexplicably powerful human. Oh... of course. The idea that popped into their head did disgust them a little - but desperate times, as they say.

The snarl that had been covering their lips turns to a smile, since they at least need to perform confidence, an act that throws Milya off guard long enough that when the hoard launches itself at them, they haven't the time to dodge out of its way. The clawing weapons dig into their side as they move, some of which is absorbed by hierro, but the rest they snarl as it cuts against their thick skin, not breaking it, but certainly bruising them. As another hits into them, they fling a hands up, as the magenta on their hands dissipates and buffers the blow, bursting into thousands of glitter-like particles, drifting to the ground as they run at full pelt towards Steve.

"Yes, yes, we can agree to work together, now let's convene, with you!" they shout, hurriedly, "Weird priest one, black hair, nail things and distinctly too normal, Itsuki? Get over here, now!" They take a moment to gain their breath, "I propose, we co-ordinate! I personally, shall be focusing on this damned gathering, not Count Nauseas over there. He seems distinctly too dull, and prone to monologues." The tremble in their voice at the last few syllables of their statement suggested that perhaps that wasn't entirely true, but at least didn't want to let that on to Castonath. And, perhaps, to draw his fire to them instead of their new allies of circumstance.

With less power, Milya launches forth once more, slashing at the hoarde, this time with their bare hands, levied at the hoarde once more. Their strikes are less focused, but they smile, slashing with just as much ferocity. As much as Milya wanted to go all out on these fodder, they knew they had to conserve their energy for the Count, and for protecting these two. They both seemed far more potent than Milya, which hopefully would allow them all to survive the day.

---

COMBAT TRACKER
1d100+5·1d6·1d100+5·1d6