[i]"Murderer! Salesman of destruction, harbinger of sorrow!" It seems somebody found her. The voice was loud, like a jet engine in the sky, so too was the voice of anger that watched Christina, eyes full of rage beneath the helm upon his face. It stepped forwards, each movement through the road creating miniature tremors that knocked everything over in the surrounding homes of Noctis. His armoured step was terrible and loud, but he moved with such slowness that it was easy to tell the loud, almost German sounding man was no godly entity that moved with swiftness, rather it was a person. Probably. The Knight-Prince took one step, then another, and stopped at six paces to close the gap of ten metres that separated him and Christina, his once dormant body looking like an old and withered suit of armour. In truth it was just from a mossy sleep that spanned almost a month, bird droppings lining his golden pauldrons and rainwater splashing endlessly on his silver chain mail chest plate, but if there was one thing that made him seem distinctly human, it was the way he moved. With fury, ever slow but vigil in his not-so-nimble movements. He stood at seventeen feet in height, clad in steel plate armour with golden linings to each silvery piece, and a chain mail drapery that ran from his shoulders to his knees. His arms were coated in runes, the left one with a glowing blue shade that looked like a burning resin on a stony backdrop. It gripped a shield in its cold hand, wretching onto a curved rectangular shield that matched almost his height. His right arm drew a broadsword from he sheath at his hip, holy flames burning a bright white as he aimed the tip to Christina like a sceptre, a microphone for her to confess her sins to the holiest above. "Explain this!" His voice thunderously echoed, a gaze of wrath settling upon the woman. [/i]