[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][@Thewizardguy][/center]
[hr]

Just as the Guardian was prepared to answer the first volley of questions from the bot, he prematurely, or at full maturity depending on what kind of philosophy of life one had, discharged his weapon in a magnificent blast of ionized oxygen that split the wind and bled ozone. It evaporated a clear and clean path of superheated stone, metal and earth before striking its mark; a large control tower built upon the edge of the bases 90 degree angle, classic siege style that would rattle the bottle with enough energy to gather the attention of anyone who was lucky enough to not be charred to death. 

How about that? Corban happened to need a solar furnace, and upon closer inspection of the material comprising the bot's blaster-arm-combo, it'd serve as something close enough. Though something still bothered him. He wanted to see [i]inside[/i] the contraption and artifice what made it tick. 

Corban was equal parts curious and disappointed. Curiosity was his forte, and as soon as the Bot discharged his eyes had beset upon the beam. Dissecting it and edifying it as it passed. He was disappointed, because the Bot seemed to not have realized that Corban's earlier comment was in fact a challenge to him. It  almost could elicit a tear, he not being able to experience the blast firsthand.

"Did you see that, Ishtalle!?" he exclaimed across a telapathic channel.

<I did.>

"Well we clearly must have done something right by the gods to have ended up here. I mean, if that's not divine, then what is?"

<Me.>

"Tch. Women." he started aloudly.

 "Where do I come from? Hmm." Corban was now addressing the Bot directly, a thoughtful index finger curled to his chin so joint met bone. "It depends on how you'd quantify a 'where'. But that's hardly important, now. What's important is that we're here. And...." Corban is intricately connected to magic. Both in physiology and in metaphysicality. He could feel it thrum and vibrate like a sine wave, and naturally the more superflous and exotic the source, the brighter it shined. Corban was practically staring into headlights. Albeit very dim headlights. 

"I sense other magical presences over that way." he pointed toward where the two magi in arms a few meters away were prior to the blast. "Maybe I can find a caster who is better at transmuting cotton candy from catalystic glucose than me!" he didn't mean that, primarily because he doubted there was any transmuter as talented as he. Therefore, if he couldn't make cotton candy than no one could! It made absolute empiric sense! Secondarily, he said that because he was telling a half-truth. He was determined to see the Bot in action, whether it be against him or others. 

That said, the half-truth lies in that Corban was aware of far more than just the simple presence of magical force, but innately understood its nature. One exceedingly dark. Perhaps extraplanar even. The other had threads that seemed similar to the metaphysical expression for arcane algorithms generally revolving around conjuration. Corban wasn't sure if they were hostile, yet, and so his devious plan to see the robot in action still had an x-factor. But Corban would find that out soon enough.

With a heave, the Earth mage would leap five feet or so into the air. When gravity should have started to drag him back down, he instead stood there like a floating statue! Or at least it would look like he was floating. The genius was in the simplicity of his air platform. Air was naturally abundant, and its properties were easy enough to transmute even without the degree of geoscopic rotational knowledge that dedicated wind-mages might have had. Then he was gone, tracing the same path as the scar of earth that stretched from him to the base.

By the time he arrived, he would have been in the clear firing path of the she-mage (witch was such a harsh word to the Guardian), acting in line with his profession as a guardian by... well, guarding Alexandria, as it were.

The sonority of his method of applying that guardian aptitude was made apparent in realization. From his pocket he withdrew three 250 carat diamonds, wedged between his fingers. Just as the two would meet at an almost 90 degree angle, the air surrounding Corban's hands and boots grew thick and thrummed like the low hum of a bird. Sounded kind of like electricity. However, there would be no bright flash of fullmetal-lightning heralding the transmutation. His hands and boots were silently, unceremoniously now coated in a thick layer of graphene, fullerenes aligning as the material molded. 

"Hold It!" At the same time, he released one of the eutectic diamond jewels which immediately stretched and morphed into the most expensive, thin body-shield ever produced. It bore a light curvature that would better displace force and projectiles should the she-mage decide to attack