[h1][center][color=00aeef]Corban[/color][/center][/h1] [hider=Visual][center][img]https://www.baka-tsuki.org/forums/download/file.php?avatar=9580_1344348745.jpg[/img][/center][/hider] [center]Eldritch IV, Edge of the Battlefield[/center] [center][@tex][/center] [hr] Several meters beyond the brown haired scholar, the tell-tale signs of war sung like a choir to the heavens. A clangor of heroic voices -from both sides- crescendo'd in patriotic ire and duty, made manifest as multi-colored laser beams, great constructs of magic, and the vicious bite of adamantine and steel. Flashes of energy popped in and out of existence like sub-atomic particles, and the light of it all reflected off of Corban's strangely ice-like crimson iris' with an almost unnatural glint. However, The esteemed Guardian and Earth Mage wore no colors or badges. No insignia or uniform. He was garbed in the likes of his own raiments, which just so happened to be a glorious black robe, embedded with an interwoven diamond lattice that made it twinkle like the stars in space, and ran across the form like circuit-lines on a motherboard. He wore no visible sheathe for gun nor holster. The mage would find no gain in the splendors of war and bloodshed. He has had, in his time, more than enough shares of both, and he was a guardian only in title and profession these days. The creeds and dogma's belonging to the group of knightly protectors were left back on his mantle in Ayenee. Now there was only ambivalent research. If Corban had anything to do with it, the universe would be ordered and memorized atom by atom. "Our trajectory must have been off. This place is as esoteric as the fabled 'girl's locker room'!" Rang Ishtalle's lucid voice as she manifested next to the Guardian. She appeared quite tall, slender frame standing nearly as tall as her 5'11 master. And the term master is used [i]incredibly[/i] loosely. The title often was as interchangeable as Corban's gender. And that meant a lot, considering his knack for cross-dressing. "Well, I had all the components there. My math must have been just a teeny bit off. Oh poo." Land? That was something the earth mage could do! An innate and intrinsic connection to the earth manifested itself as a faint vibration that emanated outward for several meters from him, where it quite rudely interfered with another vibration. A low thrum of power that was instinctually familiar to Corban through muscle memory. Electricity. Or more accurately.... Charged gas? He scanned the area with a scrutinous gaze that pierced the light show in the distance with his arcane sight, and through Ishtalle, he saw the innate flow of things. That's when he spotted the machine charging its cannon. A flash of surprise crossed the Guardian's countenance. Surprise? No, that wasn't the right word. Intrigue was far better here. He had travelled many universes through the Well, the veritable back door to the multiverse, and seen many things. Living robots among some of the first to make his acquaintance, a being like X would regularly not posit such a response from Corban. But each universe was like an iceberg floating on a sea of stuffspace, and like an iceberg, each had a unique shape and structure, laws of physics and events. While regularly able to immediately decipher the components of techno-magical materials just on cursory glances, this little bots was like a puzzle. All of the pieces were there... But he couldn't quite see how they would fit together. A black box! And like the mad scientist that Corban so emulates at times, he'd figure out how it worked if it killed him. Speaking of which.... "Why not now?" Corban asked as he crept up from his flank, stopping several meters from him. Ishtalle acted as a perfect metameterial with which to cloak his and her presence, and a zone of silence may have done a bit more to facilitate the cover in which he freely walked. Ishtalle stood beside him, endowed in a diamond-lace dress with a flower in her hair. He nor her elicited any distinction of thought physically as she spoke to him through their telepathic link. Corban's milky-crimson orbs just watched for X's response with a sense of reserved stoicism.