[u]Outside the Dojo Gates[/u] [i]Andrew Jackson had been leaving the Dojo, having gained his new armor, when he had seen the men approaching, heavily armed. Such a large force served to trigger him, his mind going back to the swamps, and the Seminoles. He sprinted to the forest before the men could set up a watch, drawing his Tomahawk and his Bowie Knife, both melee weapons vibrating as though excited for the oncoming conflict. However, the old General was no fool. He did not know this militia, their goals, or their motivations. As such, he kept quiet, watching as they set their line about the Dojo, digging their trenches and preparing other fortifications. One soldier approached, his gun held in a relaxed manner. Jackson's pupils dilated, and he hid, preparing to strike the man in the back when he heard shouts from the trenches. Old Hickory peeked from behind cover slowly, then faster as he saw that his prey had turned as well. He began to ready himself to lunge when he saw what the man had turned to see. A massive, hulking figure in power armor charging the trench lines. It was the man who had gotten Jackson this armor he now sported. Seeing this, his allegiance was solidified and his path chosen. He snuck up on the soldier, who was still watching, and readied his pair blades for their first kill in this battle...[/i] [u]Inside the Dojo, Dojoville[/u] [i]As it had turned out, Fenrir's paranoia earlier had evidently been a premonition. However, he discovered this the hard way as a round from the mans gun slammed into the back of his head, driving him to one knee. He shouted a few choice words, rubbing the back of his head and finding the familiar blue fire already healing the bruise that had been left. He spun, looking for the culprit, his eyes blazing as wildfires, his hands engulfed in the Yodünfire. His eye caught on two men rushing toward each other, the ferocity with which they addressed each other making evident the purpose of their clash. He also saw three more men enter via a side alley, aiming their guns at one of the two men. The other man was dressed in white armor, leveling a revolver at the first man. As the latter held only a sword, Fenrir found it safe to assume that the man in white had fired the irritant at his head. The ancient great sword, Ragnarok, formed in his left hand, effortlessly wielded by the Eternal Crusader. He charged the three men who had joined the fight from the back, loosing a battlecry as he fell upon them like a hammer blow.[/i]