Damonzahn no more(Black Ticket)

[Kenshin]

Kenshin had finished off the monster that had been a plague upon Sacae. He had found a few things weird about the end of the fight though. Before he landed the finishing blow, it had appeared as if the monster was already dead and something had stopped him as he moved to leave him in that state. The biggest concern Kenshin had was the sword he had, he knew he saw it before, those runes weren't exactly common. He fought a man in Bern that had once weilded a sword with these runes. Kenshin was seeking Richter for answers, what was that man he fought, why did he have his sword, and more importantly what the hell kind of weapon was this.

There was whispers in Kenshin's ear, he had grown used to hearing thihs by this point. "Draw that blade, it's obvious that it has some sort of power to it. Use it combined with my power and you'll become an unstopable one man army." Amanojaku had said. The spirit had no idea of what the sword was, all he knew that it made Kenshin uneasy.

Kenshin had ignored Amanojaku's attempts to get the swordsman to give into a lust for power as he traveled to Ilia and through out the land. He knew finding Richter wasn't going to be an easy task, he had paid anybody who gave him any sort of information. It had seemed to work so far, with each new destination it had seemed as if he was getting closer to finding the Winter Lion, at least it had felt like it.

"When you find him, draw the blade and use it to kill him. Prove to the world that you're the better fighter, it would be a fitting end for him to die by his own sword too." Amanojaku whispered into his ear. Kenshin shook his head, as if he was trying to get that thought out of his mind, even if it wasn't his own thinking. Richter may not have been his favorite person, but so far he proved to be dependable.

After what felt like months, Kenshin had finally arrived to the area Richter was said to be in.

[Richter Abend]

Now that they had gotten into town, Richter had stepped away from the others and now stood out in the cold breeze of the Ilian night, gazing out into the tundra. The moonlight shone down upon the snow, giving everything below an eery, ominous glow.

It was appropriate. Edessa was only a few days journey away now, and that meant that Richter very well be facing judgement at the hands of the Ilian Council. Hopefully some good would come from such a council, but if things took a turn for the worse, Richter couldn't predict how he'd react. He was fully prepared and fully willing to face trial for his actions, but he couldn't say he was fully prepared and fully willing to accept whatever sentence they might mete out upon him. The Winter Lion would not allow himself to be locked away or executed because someone in a big fancy chair thought it best to lock him away rather than throw him at the enemy to send some sort of message to the rest of Ilia. If they tried it, they'd have a sorry mess on their hands.

Richter looked up at the moon. Its pale glow seemed to pulsate like it was alive, like it was responding t something. It wasn't just Edessa that had him ill-at-ease. No, there was something else, a fel presence on the air that the rose-haired warrior just couldn't seem to shake. Where this whole trip to Edessa had felt like he may very well be walking to his certain doom, this felt as if doom was coming for him.

And it was then that the Winter Lion noticed a red figure on the snow plains, slowly approaching from afar.

[Kenshin]

The town The Winter Lion was rumored to be in last was in sight, Kenshin pulled on his long coat tighter as he felt an icy wind blow across his face. There was roughly a million things running through his mind, all of it was about the Damonzahn which was in a sheath on his back. He could see a silhouette in the moonlit distance, it's bulk and size only came across as one person to Kenshin, Richter.

"The least you could do is bend the wind so it doesn't beat across my face." Kenshin said aloud, speaking to Amanojaku. "Kekeke, as if I would do something to prevent discomfort to you." Some use this wind spirit had seemed to be when Kenshin needed him. He picked up his pace, the sooner he found some cover from the wind the better.

After some time he was in speaking distance from Richter. "Richter, that blade you used against me back in Bern. What kind of bl-" As he spoke Kenshin had reached behind himself grabbing the sword's hilt, drawing it from the sheath. By time he had fully drew the blade it had began to react to being in his hand. Small black tendrils had spawned the hilt, swaying about before latching onto Kenshin's wrist, twisting around it. Kenshin had let out a grunt of pain as the tendrils had began to seep into his flesh. The began to travel towards his hand as well as up his arm, Kenshin let out groans of pain as he attempted to let go of the sword, but it was too late at this point, it had a firm grasp upon him.

"What... in the... hells is this sword?" The Crimson Demon barked out at Richter in pain. In the beginning the black magic had slowly been moving up his arm, then becoming more rapid as it began to cover his entire body, Kenshin had became an Arum Knight.

[???]

Richter reached out for the Crimson Demon as if to help him in some way, but the elder magic worked too quickly, taking only seconds to engulf the man in the black tar of the Nether. It writhed and slithered over the entirety of his body, and when the magic was finished, Kenshin's skin looked deathly smiliar to that of Burt's when the sword had taken him over and made him The Hunger. But unlike Damonzahn's previous host, Kenshin's hair retained its bright red color while his eyes remained free from that glossy, deathly pale.

It is not a true fusion, nor are you a particularly excellent fit.

The voice was little more than a soft whisper, a wisp of a thought that slithered into Kenshin's head, creeping out from the cracks in between Kenshin's thoughts. But while quiet, it brought with it a power that seized control of the Sacaen's mind. It did not control what the swordsman thought, but it flooded his mind with negative emotions and illicit desires. It instilled in him a voracious hunger.

But that is of little import. You only need to be a vehicle for me to satisfy my hunger.

Damonzahn itself began to hum with power. The golden runes etched along its fuller glowed purple. Black tendrils snaked out from the edges of its darksteel blade. The whole sword looked as if it was coming alive, vibrating with a fury normally reserved for living beings.

Now feed on the Winter Lion. Consume him!

[Richter Abend]

"Kenshin!"

Richter's shout echoed across the icy plain, but before the Ilian could even throw his hand out in caution the Crimson Demon was brought under the sword's control, reduced to the to a thrall, a charcoal-skinned version of his former self. At once a thousand thoughts ran through the pink-haired warrior's mind. Why was Kenshin here? Why had he brought the sword? Had the sword brought Kenshin here? How had Kenshin even gotten the sword? What had happened to Burt?

"You shouldn't have grabbed the damn sword," Richter cursed to himself. Realizing there was no point in discussion now that the dread blade had taken hold, he reached behind his back and drew his own weapon, the mighty ice axe Boreas, then let the artifact fall to the ground with a thud. The tempermental axe flared as the Winter Lion approached his new foe, spitting ice like a rabid dog, leaving a trail of crystalline ice in its wake. The Ilian's eyes focused in on the sword, Damonzahn. The Netherblade stared back at him with invisible eyes, a writhing abyss of hungry power. The thought that he had once wielded this sword, that he had drank of its magic, that it had been its dark power which put his body back together, was terrifying. If not for Burt's idiocy, he could have been the monster created on the fields of Sacae that day. In fact it could be him standing there, in Kenshin's shoes, posessed by this evil sword. Damonzahn was a curse, a disease that just wouldn't go away, and even though Richter had been spared its corruption, or maybe because he had been spared, it was his responsibility to rid Elibe of its taint. If he had just left the damn thing in that warehouse, the Arum that currently lurked inside would have never gotten ahold of it. Who even knew just how much destruction it had wrought since the City of Heroes?

"I doubt you can even hear me, Kenshin," Richter said. His voice carried a faint tone of regret, and his eyes fell as he spoke. "I'm sorry. I should have hunted that sword down." The Ilian wasn't sure he was apologizing to Kenshin or to himself. But then his face grew wolfish, his eyes narrowing with anticipation. "But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't looking forward to this." He widened his stance in preperation for Kenshin's, or rather Damonzahn's, imminent attack. It was obvious the corrupted man wasn't about to go on the defensive. "I've been wanting to smash your face in ever since Bern."

Richter's words made light of the situation, but the Ilian's dark eyes showed that the reality had set in: he may actually be forced to beat Kenshin's face in, and that thought, despite their rivalry, brought him no joy.

[Kenshin]

Kenshin could still see Richter in front of him, but when he tried to move his jaw to speak his body wouldn't react. All of his senses were intact, it seems he had only lost control of his body. He watched as Richter drew his weapon, Kenshin was able to avoid this sword, no the thing inside of the blade killing him but he feared whatever took control of his body was going to get him killed against Richter.

"Heh, I guess you could say the feeling was mutual Richter. I still long to have a rematch since Bern, it's been many years since I fought a human who could shrug my attacks off." His words echoed in his trapped mind.

He couldn't understand what this thing was doing, the only action he could feel his body do was lower the blade. It did not take a defensive stance nor prepared to dodge in the event of an attack, it just stood there.

Amanojaku wasn't pleased one bit. While he was enjoying Richter's anger, his desire to murder Kenshin he couldn't allow that to happen. His spiritual connection to Kenshin had been severed when he drew the blade, while he could feed off of Richter's hatred at the moment it would end once he got his wish and the two parted ways. Forming the pact with Kenshin had bound him to the Wo Dao Kenshin carried so he couldn't roam freely.

Then suddenly there was movement, it had began with his body bouncing his weight between his feet, then his body swaying a bit with each bounce. It was as if the Arum was trying to get use to his body, it must have saw the way he moved when it battled against him in Sacae, unlike it's previous host Kenshin was far more agile and more combat orientated. Kenshin knew Richter had the clear advantage right now, Damonzahn was not suited for his style of combat nor the Arum knew how to use his body the way he had trained and that caused him to worry.

Suddenly Arum Kenshin took off in a sprint towards Richter much like he did against Burt. The Arum was imitating what it had saw back in Sacae with it's own flair, it had leaned forward as it pulled the sword back ready to strike. Suddenly a strong gust of wind had kicked up before the two were in striking range. The timing was perfect, Amanojaku had waited to catch the Arum Knight off guard, using his ability to call upon the winds to throw him off balance causing him to fall to the left. Arum Kenshin hit the ground rolling while planting his feet on the ground. Pushing off the ground he lunged towards Richter, thrusting Damonzahn towards him.

[Richter Abend]

Richter was prepared to respond to Kenshin's initial approach, but found himself thrown off by the sudden burst of wind that knocked the latter off of his feet just before coming within swinging distance. He would have wondered just what the hell had caused the gale, but the pink-haired Ilian had only barely the time to reorient himself before the possessed Sacaen came back at him, this time even faster than before.

The black blade of Damonzahn cut through the air like a spear looking to pierce vulnerable flesh, but the Ilian warrior was not such an amatuer that he’d be hit with such an obvious attack, regardless of speed. Richter gripped the haft of Boreas tightly and thrust his one good arm up over his right shoulder, catching the tip of the razor-sharp black steel, forcing it away from him. He could feel the evil blade whistling past his head, the tingle in his ears as the relic’s ambient dark magic reached out for him. He bade it no heed. He’d faced Kenshin before, and he was all too familiar with Damonzahn’s hunger. There was no room for hesitation against this opponent.

Fortunately his weapon agreed. The air around Boreas had grown frigid after making contact with the nethersword, so Richter took hold of his weapon’s obvious discomfort and fed it with his own rage. The two emotions mixed, blending together across the boundary between man and steel and coalesced into a winter storm that whipped around the head of the battle axe. The Ilian’s fingers went numb. He he could remember his return to Salvation Point, how the dark power of those monsters had invaded the most intimate corners of his mind. He could remember staring into the eyes of the very demon that now took shelter in the sword, how it had taken control of every inch of his body. No man deserved such a fate, but here Kenshin was, probably suffering worse. This damn sword! Such a thing should not be allowed to exist!

"Howl, Boreas!"

Richter’s first attack was fierce, swung with the resoluteness of an executioner. Boreas's frosted blade would bite through any flesh it came into contact with, and if that failed meet its mark a hail of frozen blades thrown from the axe’s localized blizzard would follow. There was no holding back. The moment Kenshin took hold of that sword his fate had been decided, and the Winter Lion saw no reason to share in the Crimson Demon's fate if it turned out to be death.

[Kenshin]

Kenshin's mind was on fire at this moment, it was as if whatever had taken control of his body was forcing it's way into his mind. Into his memories, as if it was searching for something. As it made the lunge attack after the roll Kenshin had vaguely remembered doing something similar against Richter back in Bern, but using his sheath to attack instead, once the attack was deflected his mind exploded once again as if the intruder was searching his memory for a defensive stance. Kenshin figured it wouldn't be too long before it was fighting almost at his full strength.

As the two blades clashed the temperature around them had lowered and the spot where the weapons touched small ice particles had began to form on the black blade. While the sword was whizzing past Richter's head, small black tendrils had reached out towards Richter, a futile attempt to grab a hold of the Ilian. Before Richter could follow up with an attack Arum Kenshin had began to squat, bringing the sword down, resting the part near the tip on his left leg as well as using his left arm for extra support while holding it in both hands.

Amanojaku had been looking for another opening to trip up either of the warriors, unfortunately for him neither had gave him the opening he had needed. While he could call a powerful gust, it would do little to nothing to them. Both of their feet was firmly planted on the ground, it had only worked last time because Arum Kenshin was mid stride on the loose snow.

Boreas had once again clashed against Damonzahn, the axe striking the sword that Arum Kenshin was using as a shield. The axe had struck it in a different location but had the same effect of leaving ice particles upon the neather blade. The force of the blow was strong enough to push Arum Kenshin, as if Richter was trying to cleave the blade and the wielder in two with a single strike. The Arum parasite had finally realized that Kenshin was no match in a direct confrontation with Richter. The gap in the amount of raw power Richter had over Kenshin was too great, in order to do anything it would have to get Richter to attack first and use Kenshin's speed to counter attack and run. The Arum had began to back away from Richter, raising his blade to chest height while pointing it in the direction of Richter's eyes. The emotionless warrior began to take slow steps to the side, all while keeping his blade trained on the Winter Lion, there was now a gap roughly 15 feet between the two.

[Richter Abend]

The explosive collision of the two magic weapons sent reverberations throughout Richter's body, and the spell Boreas had prepared fizzled in the wave of Damonzahn's thirsty aura. The possessed Kenshin had manage to interrupt Richter’s attack, but it meant little to the Ilian. He could feel himself quickly overpowering the red-haired swordsman, and so he let loose a vicious roar. In a contest of strength, he knew he would win every time. He had no reason to back off, and it seemed the Arum realized this, as just before Boreas tore a potentially lethal opening in Kenshin’s defenses the Sacaen slipped out from under the mighty ice axe above him before dancing out of Richter’s zone of control. From there the possessed figure began pacing, circling around Richter with Damonzahn extended, as if he was looking for an opening.

“You’ll be hard pressed to find one!” Richter shouted, his words directed at the abomination inside Kenshin. Then, without another word, he tightened his grip on his axe and continued his attack. There would be no opening for the Arum. Richter would give it no room. This time he would end things.

He flipped his grip on his axe, lowering the ancient weapon like a spear, then charged forward. His legs exploded into a forward charge; it took little more than a second for the Winter Lion to close the gap between him and the Crimson Demon, and in that brief second a massive spearhead of ice burst from between Boreas’s axe blades. As he entered Kenshin's zone of control Richter took the impromptu spear and lunged, and with all the strength his arm could muster the warrior thrust the lance at the swordsman’s heart.

[???]

Damonzahn rose once again to defend its host against the sudden charge, catching the axe’s attack across the broadside of its blade, again bringing the Ilian to a halt. Boreas’s icy spear tip ground uselessly against the otherworldly metal of the black netherblade, cracking and chipping under the force until the axe finally receded. But the Winter Lion did not stop. The frostbitten axe surged forward again, and again, and again. Each time Damonzahn intercepted, its host moving just in time to parry each attack, but the spirit that dwelled within Kenshin could begin to feel the swordsman’s arms strain against the force of the armor-clad warrior’s onslaught. He would not win this with the Sacaen.

I overestimated you, Demon.

The whisper of the darkness that contaminated the Crimson Demon began to grow into a hiss. It bubbled and boiled like black crude rising up from the bottom of a sea. There was frustration in its tone now, and as Boreas continued to drive into Damonzahn it called upon the strength of Kenshin’s whole form to push against the assailant’s attack. It didn’t like being on the defensive. It despised it, but it would not lose. Not again. Retreat was optimal.

But before it could find an opening to make its haste, the Arum felt a final blow that sent shivers down the arms of its host. Metal rang against metal as the Winter Lion brought the head of his wintry axe upon the dark sword of the Crimson Demon. It was the penultimate blow. The next attack would be the last. The Sacaen’s body was too exhausted by the incomplete possession and repeated full-force blocks to stop the next attack. The Arum began its retreat, falling out from underneath the taller human, but then the unthinkable happened…

Damonzahn began to crack.

No!

The fracture spread instantaneously, running down the full length of the blade in the blink of an eye. The subtle light that once illuminated the ornate golden runes decorating the flat of the sword faded, giving way to a brilliant purple light that grew brighter and brighter as if it was fighting to escape the blade-shaped prison that surrounded it.

What followed was not a simple snapping of a weapon. No one piece of obsidian fell from Damonzahn’s hilt. Just as the light from the sword became became too blinding to look at, the netherblade exploded, shattering like vase thrown against a stone floor and spewing shrapnel in all directions. It released a flash of light brighter and a howl louder than any either of the humans had seen or heard before, and erupted with a force great enough to hurl both Kenshin and Richter through the air like mere ragdolls.

All that was left after the explosion was a crater, bereft of all but ash and the twinkling gold hilt of the sword once called Damonzahn.

[Johanna]

“Do you miss being home?”

“Damn, woman, can you wait five minutes before pestering me with another question?”

Johanna blushed, but her lips were still curled in an sheepish smile. It had been a few months since she’d left Carrahae, and since then she’d been searching for a good reference point for the serial she was currently working on - the love story of an Illian general and a Bernese double agent. While she’d wanted to entrench herself in among the Bernese to experience life amidst the rebellion, the young woman had stood out too much; she was picked out as Ilian by just about everyone she tried to interview.

So instead, it made sense to start with the research on the Ilian portion first, which led her to travelling with the group of men she was with now. It was a mid-sized platoon, just about thirty or so men from the three squads that it was comprised of. While she’d had an in thanks to her brother Hank knowing one of the squad leaders, Johanna was most interested in speaking with and questioning the captain of the platoon, a serious man by the name of Don Oldham. He was only in his mid-thirties, but he acted like he’d seen so many horrors that it was best to never speak at all - unless he was yelling at the platoon, of course.

But Johanna had been working at him for the past few weeks that they’d been travelling together, and today had been the first day he’d answered a question of hers. Just the simple, non-threatening question of what his favorite animal had garnered a response, the first in weeks that wasn’t related to where their next destination was, or what the platoon’s orders were. Johanna didn’t like to brag, but getting these military types to open up to her was a special skill she seemed to have. During her time with them, she had even begun considering enlisting herself, though with the medics. Maybe serving for a time would really help her understand what it was like to be in the Ilian military, firsthand.

“I’m just curious,” Johanna clarified with a shrug of her shoulders, her steps light and bouncy as she walked next to the brooding captain’s horse. “I know I miss home when I travel, not being able to see my mother and brothers and sisters and all. Even when I’m travelling with people, it can be lonely without them.”

Quiet passed between them for a moment before Don’s voice came from under his opened helmet. “You didn’t mention your father.”

And there it was. If Don was asking questions about her, then he was halfway to empathizing with her, which meant she was halfway to getting him to open up to her. It was only a matter of time.

But just as Johanna was about to respond, a great explosion ripped through the crunch of stamping hooves and boots on the Ilian tundra. Nearly all of the men stumbled out of formation, some even drawing their blades in anticipation of an attack. A great flash of light pierced the heavens from behind a steep incline some ways ahead of them; anyone foolish enough to have been staring directly at the top of the ridge would have had stars in their eyes. Johanna herself found herself misstep, jumping from the awesome sound and shielding her face as she pushed her shoulders forward and crouched.

As soon as the terrible howl quieted, all that was left was the mumblings of the soldiers as they pointed and peered to try and see what had just caused such an explosion. “Back in line, men! We’re going to investigate.” Captain Oldham barked, causing the soldiers to scurry into place, while Johanna simply stood, legs still shaky as she brushed her front off.

Captain Oldham looked down to the young woman. “Stay by my side, miss, and do not get in the way. At the first sign of trouble, you’re to run and hide, understand?”

Johanna nodded in agreement, but she could barely contain herself as they quickly marched towards the ridge where the explosion had sounded behind. She was curious as a cat, and she wanted to see what had caused such a commotion.

[Kenshin]

"You're doing poorly because you're simply mimicking me." Was the only thing Kenshin was able to respond with before the flurry of blows Richter was throwing his way. It had seemed as if the entity in his body didn't realize the gap between the two raw power was far too great to simply block everything. Suddenly the blade in his hands cracked before exploding throwing both Richter and himself backwards.

Kenshin had landed face first into the icy snow before rolling a few feet. He laid motionless as blood began to trickle down his face from the cut on his forehead. Every muscle in his body was sore, he could feel his bones aching, being possessed had taken a toll on his body. One thing was for sure, he had came to Richter for answers and he got them, even if it nearly cost him his life.

"Get up you oaf, it's not over yet. The pink haired man has answers I want." Amanojaku called to Kenshin. Letting out a groan he rolled onto his side before placing his hand into the snow, the cold had somewhat brought a slight relief to him, he struggled to push himself up a small distance. "Richter." Kenshin called out as he rolled over a bit more to use both hands to push himself to his knees.

His breathing was more rapid as he watched the steam created by his breath while the blood dripped from his brow into the snow. Using his hands to keep his balance as he planted one foot into the snow before rising to his feet, he staggered for a moment before speaking again. "What the hell was in that sword?"

[Richter Abend]

Richter’s ears were still ringing when he heard Kenshin’s voice call out from a few yards away. Either he had caught the worst of the explosion or Kenshin was hardier than the Ilian gave him credit for, because Richter could hardly imagine pulling himself to his feet right now. His body hurt all over, and his eyes couldn’t maintain focus. He turned his head to look at the red-haired Sacaen, but all he could make out was swirls of red and green and brown.

“I...” began Richter through irregular panting, “had no idea, but you… ugh. You definitely had a more intimate… relationship with it than... I did.” The Ilian would have chuckled at his joke, but a sharp pain snaking between his ribs turned any possible grin into a pain induced cringe. What had lurked within Damonzahn? In truth Richter could not fully say. He knew that it was dark, that it was evil, that it was not of this world, but beyond those readily obvious facts he knew criminally little about the fell blade. Hopefully whatever it was that Kenshin asked about had been destroyed in the explosion.

Using whatever strength in his right arm that still responded to his will, the Ilian pushed his face out of the dirt and rolled over onto his back, taking deep breaths of the clear Ilian sky above. He could smell the dirt that was still settling around them, and the fragrance of recently torn grass, and an impressive variety of charred smells.

“It was definitely dark magic,” Richter continued, picking up where his poorly delivered jape had left off, “one of those spectres that Hargus pulled out of his ass in Sacae.” He looked up at Kenshin, a scowl on his face. “Not something you should be hauling around with you wrapped in your bed sheets. Or unsheathing for that matter.” Even flat on his back with the wind knocked out of him, the rose haired warrior wouldn’t be stopped from taking a shot or two at Kenshin.

He sighed loudly then let his head fall to the right, his vision coming into focus just enough to spot a crowd of people approaching them. Town dwellers, no doubt. They were probably coming to inspect whatever the hell had caused such an explosion. Richter didn’t blame them. He’d lived through the destruction of Ostia and even he was surprised at just how intense it had been. It was a wonder he wasn’t blind or deaf or dead. Probably magic. Seemed to be the explanation for pretty much everything nowadays.

“Come on, help me up.”

[Johanna]

Oldham and his men confidently marched forward, steps moving in unison as if they hadn’t just seen an explosion that could have leveled a small tow. As Johanna looked around them, she could see the anxiety and nervousness on their features, but ignored her own trepidations. Her legs burned as they pushed her tired body up the hill that had blocked their view, but she did not slow, did not falter. Like the men around her, she had a duty to her curiosity to see what the explosion had been about.

As soon as the troops crested over the top of the hill, Johanna gasped. Never had she seen such a disaster; in fact, she wasn’t quite sure what kind of beast or weapon could have even caused this sort of thing. The only explanation was some sort of magic, some spirit having been violently loosed from the shackles of Elibe back to… well, wherever it was that spirits came from.

Johanna didn’t see when Oldham looked down concernedly at her, but she did hear his urging for her to follow him. She stumbled along like a child seeing her hero, a young girl holding her mother’s hand a she desparately tried to crane and see something they were passing. The Illian troops were responding to orders and splitting up, having spotted two men in red, likely caught in the blast. But despite staying at Oldham’s side, the young woman’s eye was locked on one thing.

At the center of the crater that had been left from whatever massive explosion had occured, a glint of gold had caught her eye. What could it be, she thought, desperately wanting to break from her protector and to know what it was that had caught her wandering eye. Even as Oldham approached the Winter Lion and the Demon of Sacae, legendary men that Johanna was all too aware of, somehow the woman still could not tear her eye away from that glint of gold. It was almost as if something was calling to her - not with words, but a strange push from within.

Looking up to a distracted Oldham, Johanna decided it was as good of a time as any to break from the group - the worst that would happen was a lecture from Oldham, which the young woman had grown used to by now. As she trudged down into the crater, she passed a few of the troops as they inspected the surroundings; passing glances came her way, but no one tried to stop her. Looking up, she even noticed a small group of villagers approaching, likely having come to investigate just as Johanna and the Ilian troops had.

But it was no matter, and speaking to those people was definitely not her goal. Nearing the center of the crater, Johanna couldn’t help but feel as if a weight had been placed on her shoulders, on her chest, and for a split second she had an overwhelming urge to run back to Oldham’s side. Nothing good will come of this, her conscience seemed to say, but the inquisitive part of the woman pushed the clear warnings away.

Now close enough, Johanna could finally make out that the gold glint was actually the hilt of an ornate, albiet broken sword. It seemed that the majority of the blade had been broken from the tang, which seemed to explain what the soldiers were inspecting about the crater. Johanna eyed them for a moment, then eyeing Oldham to make sure he was still occupied with the legends. Crouching down, her knees hit the dirt as she brushed dirt from around the hilt, wondering what the unbroken sword had once looked like - it seemed like it had been beautiful, strong, something that would have struck fear into the hearts of its enemies. Johanna had only held kitchen knives and rapiers before, and she wondered what such a sword would feel like in her own hands.

Her unknowing hand reaching out, Johanna wrapped her slender fingers round Dahmonzan’s golden hilt.

[Kenshin]

"Trust me, you weren't missing out on anything exciting. It was pretty vanilla, and one sided, did nothing to excite me." Kenshin said in response to Richter cracking a joke. His entire body throbbed in pain, he was unsure if he had any broken bones or not and if he did, he couldn't tell so he brought his right hand up to his rib cage. His pushed in as he began to run his hand up and then down the other side, there wasn't an shooting pain as his hand pasted, he then began to examine his body for any other injuries that he may have, other than some busing and cuts nothing major.

Taking one step towards Richter he noticed his balance wasn't completely there, his body swayed for a moment before he was able to stabilize himself. "Whatever it was, let's hope that was the last of them. It's a good thing you just left the sword laying around for anybody to pick it up then. There were rumors of a crazed killer with black skin going around Sacae before I confronted it's previous owner." Kenshin returned a verbal jab right back to Richter before taking another step. He swayed less this time, which was a decent sign he was regaining control over his equilibrium. It had seemed as if he was too focused on remaining standing and what Richter had been saying, there was a small group of people nearby now, he hadn't noticed them till seconds ago. Perhaps he blacked out for a short period after the explosion, he wasn't sure.

By time the group was mere feet to the two men, Kenshin had finally made it to Richter extending his hand to help him up. "At least we don't have to rely on each other's broken body to make it back to a town now"