R1C carries horse

Just one swing of his mighty arm could blow away ten men at a time, as he tore through their ranks and cold-clocked their horses. They set upon him with replica swords, and not-so-replica knives and brass knuckles and guns, but nothing could pierce his rippling muscles. By now, he was so energized that he was handily outpacing the horse. Damn it, Gentaro was going too slow!

"Alright, gimme that," he said, and hefted the horse onto his shoulder.

The horse screamed and neighed while Gentaro clung on desperately, trying to soothe it before it bucked him aside. Saxton had no such concerns. If anything, he was running even faster now that he didn't have to wait for his partner to keep pace. The more of a ruckus he caused, the more soldiers rushed over to see the source of the fighting, or maybe whether they war had started without them. Once they'd discovered the remains of the pillaged warbands, Hale's own warriors would swoop in to devour the rest of them. Even some poor event organizers got pulled into the mix, black shirts and lanyards buried under stampeding yakuza.

Luckily, he didn't have far to go. The commanders weren't too far away from their leader, after all. Sprinting through the fields, trampling across the delicately-maintained paths, his feet digging trenches into the dirt with the extra weight pushing him down--that was when Hale finally saw him. Right in front of one of those tall, wooden pagodas. Surrounded by ninjas. Just to let everyone know that he was a badass.