[i]Drake didn't sound quivering--however hurt he was, the only time you had seen him remotely quivering was when Celina had died. Now, he sounded empty, and more nostalgic than anything, like he had just been awoken from a dream and wasn't quite conscious yet. [/i] "He was an Echomancer: someone who channels energy through harmonic frequencies. He always wore these stupid headphones, because music seemed to get him concentrated. He transferred his powers to me--almost all of them, at least--but that focus doesn't seem to work for me. I dunno how my powers work."

Sawyer nodded, his prosthetic eye flickering with a spark of light, information filtering directly to him through a holographic. A recognition washes over the man, accompanied by a sigh of acceptance. "Echomancy... manipulations, of photons, light, sound. Yes, I'm familiar with this. It is a variation called [b]environmental arcane[/b], a sect of magic that revolves around the use of natural elements. It is not a magic that is perfected with studying and knowledge of tomes. Rather, you must become in sync with it, through trial and error. Attune yourself, become part of what you must master. Your temporary understanding of it came from a burst of short power, a need for it. These elements are alive, understanding of you. Become a friend of it, tame it for your own." Sawyer shed his pelt, revealing a simple coat of black, worn leather, studded with metal. He proceeded to raise his hands in defensive position. "Throw some punches."