"Has anyone been broken loose of their control? I considered cutting down what portions of them I could sense, when we first met, but I did not know what other consequences might occur. Particularly to the innocent pawns."

"There has been some success in freeing them from the possession, though rehabilitating them of the spiritual harm it causes has met with less success. Listlessness, memory loss, personality alterations, flashbacks, violent outbursts. Coma, or death outright, in the worst cases. Progress is being made even as we speak, though, and I have reason to believe that we will soon have the therapies to ensure full recovery for all but the most ruined souls." Green answers.

"Good. This disgusts me as few things have. Of all the detestable gods I have met, I believe this 'One God' is the worst yet."

All four raise at least one eyebrow at the brazen misotheism, and Red lip's bend into a smirk. "I'll toast to that." He says, raising a simple metal canteen, which the others match, albeit with lacking enthusiasm.

She raises her hand as if lifting a ghostly tankard, then takes a seat as the toast ends.

"What were your names, again? I caught 'Ten'" - she nods toward Red - "but not you three."

"Addul Vinluballiy, chief archeologist at Aarha University and champion of Irkalla." Yellow.

"Mamthu Lassyara, professional psychometrist, priestess and champion of Trinome." Green.

"Ean Madder, head of thaumatology at Old College of Zerz, official Zerz state mage, and champion of Thalassa." Blue.

"Well, if we're doing full titles. Ten Hoans, professional fencer, relinquisher, and champion of Solar."

"Pleased to meet you all. I am also called Mathangi Ten Meti; she was my teacher. I have held high titles, but here and now I am solely a Master of Cutting, itinerant and champion of only myself."

The other three give Ten another meaningful glance, which he can only reply to with a shrug.

The sun begins to set as the group finishes their meal. The temperature falls even lower, their breaths becoming mist. For a time, it seems they might settle in for the night, but as things wind down Mamthu goes stock still then scans the horizon with her glittering eyes. "Target is on the move, breaking from prediction. Spiritual is still on them, but that won't last."

The four of them share another brief glance, before quickly beginning to pack up and get ready to move.

"It looks like you showed up just in time for the action, Mathangi."

She smiles, slightly grimly. "Good luck, gentlemen. Reach heaven by violence."

Ten chuckles at that. After a further moment's packing, the group is ready, and they set out, Mamthu taking the lead with impressively quick steps over the rugged backwood terrain.

Than can keep up reasonably well - nothing about her walking is unusual, but she's spent plenty of time marching on campaign and is in better physical condition than her bulk might suggest.

"I haven't heard the term 'Relinquisher' before," she remarks to Ten as they walk, "Is it a sword art?"

"The legends of the relinquishers are rather...obscure. My own teachers only spoke of them after I'd proven myself capable of it. As for what relinquishing is, I suppose you could say it is a sword art, though in my personal experience it's almost the opposite. I've more so been realizing just how little what I once thought was critical to swordplay it truly depends upon."

"Hmm. There is a precept 'relinquishing' brings to mind... 'Your hand must become a hand that is cutting, your body a body that is cutting, your mind, a mind that is cutting. Your fake pre-present self is a useless hanger on.' Sound similar?"

He considers it for a moment. "In a way, yes? It seems arrayed in parallel to my own thoughts, but driving in their opposite direction. In relinquishing, it feels more that I let go of the barrier which holds back the cut from me, than that I have passed through that barrier to reach the cut."

"Interesting. I think my method is too... selfish, perhaps... to match that. But it has things in common. Now is presumably not the time for detail."

Ten nods, and the trek continues through the quiet night.

The sky begins to brighten with pre-dawn light and the sharp cold of the air begins to lose its edge when Mamthu slows to a stop and gathers everyone together. "This is as close as I can get us before we start risking the target detecting our approach. Now is the time to make any final preparations."

Mamthu herself as well as Addul and Ean all begin to meditate, their souls flaring palpably, while Ten simply takes a centering breath.

Than takes a deep breath, briefly concentrating on her internal flame. It is still roaring, but when she needs to cut God - or a god, at least - it is proper to check. Her knife is out, her stance steady... if the 'relinquisher' doesn't cut this thing out of the world, she certainly will.