Taking in the sights and sounds of the 'temple' was, to Vigrid Brand, a task of obligation, where their duel was an object of pleasure. The subject matter, though, Vigrid found fascinating. A hall of knowledge based solely on understanding the martial means of their enemies? What appeared to be a paradox in their representation of the Enemy, these machines were simulating what could only be described as the very peak of their species' performance in battle. What he wouldn't give to throw down the gauntlet to any one of these simulations to learn and adapt to their battle movements. He glanced at Eunicornus with a touch of jealousy in his eye. 

The pipes. Magos Stoll. Vigrid shuddered at the phantom feeling of Stoll's many eyes trained on his back. With a wary glance behind him, the phantom was lifted, still the memories of reassembling machines in the darkness beneath their feet remained. It was a rite of passage, and like any before it, he had become the sum of the milestone. Still, he loathed the idea of returning to Stoll, and with the open question of the Achmagos' cogitators still gnawing at him, he feared his reprieve from the lair of the Necromechanic was soon to end. Vigrid bit his cheek as he focused on his guide's leading.

As his massive steps kept pace with Eunicornus', he made room for Ramona, being conscious of the human beside them. It was this extended consciousness that made him reach slightly toward his weapon as the uncanny figure's gaze fell over him. The hairs on the back of his neck rose--though that feeling was an often relied upon mechanism of his body and meant no special case--as he studied the ungainly creature for a few moments. Then something dawned on him.

Ramona and he had been searching for something that stretched their concepts of what could and could not happen logically in the Archmagos' sanctum. The rules of displacer fields, the size of the assailant, a transfer of paint implicating the Dark Angel. But these creatures, though facsimile, threatened that very notion.

"Have you done battle with all of these simulations, Eunicornus? Would it be plausible for paint from your armor to transfer in such a sparring match?" The wheels continued to turn, "Who is the High Ward of these 'research subjects?'" He turned to Ramona for a moment, "I'd like a full account of all these mechanical creatures at the time of the Archmagos' murder." 

He couldn't help it. He threw a glance over his shoulder at the uncanny figure standing over the three Sicarians.

Finally, he returned his gaze to their host. The armor of a Space Marine left everything to the imagination, except that he knew what lay beneath being one himself. The disfigured, flexed, ported, and disproportionate being beneath the plates was not something to display, surely, but when speaking with a Brother, especially when sharing as freely as they did now, there were some... pleasantries to abide. Like looking each other in the eye. It didn't make him angry, but it somehow still gnawed at him, as if the figure before them was sheltering a secret from him. A secret he felt beginning to take seed in his mind. 

Hrmm, Eunicornus had moved with such grace and elegance in their duel. Never once did they--yes 'they'--gender themselves when communicating. Vigrid took another hard look, as if expecting to be able to see shapes of eyes through their visor.