The Yaks are all the same. They pretend to have honor but they were just greedy cowards. They can't even beet up old women and steal children's lunch money without backup. They wouldn't dare face me without a squad of at least thirty. I never much cared for Japan's draconian gun control laws. That day I worshiped them as my lord and savior.
Like a coward, the first strikes from behind. I heard the floorboards creak as he shifts his weight for a killing blow; that is all the warning I need. I hurl myself toward him, driving my fist into his face and knocking him off balance. His sword, having lost its momentum and its focus, skitters off my armguard like gentle raindrops against a smooth rock.
I reach across our bodies with my right hand and grab his hilt of his blade above his own right hand; with all my strength I drive my right shoulder into him, destroying what little balance he has regained and as he stumbles backwards I twist the katana from his failing grip. Without hesitation, I step forward again and slice out at his falling body. It is a hasty, sloppy cut and the result is not at all clean. His head remains attached by a lightly scored spine and chunks of skin. He will continue to live for far too long, but I am pressed by more important matters than one thug's suffering.
The next two are charging at me from front and from back, their swords raised high above their heads as they let out earsplitting battlecries. I take several quick sidesteps, forcing them to adjust their attack vectors so that I can face toward both of them.
The one on my left iss the fastest, entering my swordreach several tenths of a second before his companion. My arms were slightly longer than his. The difference isn't enough to give me an overwhelming advantage, but it does allow me to make a quick flick towards his face. My blade bites into the cartilage of his nose, stopping his charge as effectively as a brick wall. The wound causes no real damage but leaves him flabbergasted as he holds his spurting septum.
This short reprieve allows my to make a thrust at the one on the right, forcing him to bring his sword down prematurely to deflect my strike. Instead of forcing the issue and risking my balance I intentionally move with his parry, making the deflection far too easy for him but he didn't seem to notice. In his haste to strike me down he recovers from the parry before making a complete followthrough and neglects to adjust his stance. Either mistake would have been fatal and I easily cut into the soft flesh of his exposed waist. This time my cut was complete and perfect. I feel his spine give itself up to the power of my slice and I follow through until his upper half separates from his lower half.
The one on the left has recovered by now but his anger leaves him vulnerable. He telegraphes a wide powerful stroke that starts in his hips and the tip of my sword fins purchase between his ribs. I use my blade as a lever to counter his torso's centripetal momentum and harmlessly redirect it. I toss him off of my blade as he spasmed in his death throws.
By this time they have become wiser, but not wise enough to walk away. Six thugs slowly circle me with their swords drawn, waiting for a single sign of weakness that they can pounce on like a pack of hungry jackles. #4 attacks first with a quick but obvious thrust. I twist away from it and step past him with my blade raised, opening his neck like an old tin can. I use his walking corpse to shield myself from #1, #2, and #3 as I aggressively disembowl the hesitant #5 and stab the careless #6.
#1, #2, and #3 regroup around me as they are joined by a #7. The four give me much more distance than before. They circle and I watch, waiting for the first attack. The tension is palpable. They know what I am capable of and I know that they know. They fear my skill and I fear that their fear would be just enough to clean up their sloppy and undisciplined form. The attack that I have been waiting for comes from #2 on my right in the form of a long horizontal slice. His attack is good and precise. I can't counterattack his body from that angle, I can't sidestep, and a parry would leave me vulnerable for others kill at their leisure. But his angle of attack does leave his wrists and arms exposed, a fact that I capitalize on. Inertia carries his flying sword into the chest of #3 and blood from his stumps mars my pristine leather jacket. I grab #2's hair and twist it as I step behind him.
#1 is confused, #3 is dead, and #7 is trying to get behind me. I throw my hostage at #1 to keep him off balance as I rush to intercept #7 before he would obtain a superior position. I strike out at #7 with an obvious feint but he falls for it and parries too soon. It is trivial for me to redirect my attack and land a killing blow. #1 hasn't yet recovered from the impact of #2 and a horizontal slice takes his head off before he can. A quick downward stab finishes #2.
Ten down, twenty-three to go.
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Chambara
Cost: 1 power point per level
Like the protagonists of the classic chambara films, adepts with the chambara power can tear through hordes of unskilled generic enemies like a human cuisionart. Every level of Chambara that an adept possessess reduces friends in melee penalties by 1. It does not reduce friends in melee bonuses that enemies receive. Thus, a chambara adept will probably not fall prey to anklebitting ghoul toddlers but will still be at a disadvantage against several skilled opponents.