The berets and shades were obligatory, of course, but it was the weaponry that looked like nothing on earth. The weirdly fluted and shaped pistols perfectly fitted the hands holding them, and rifles even more distorted and bizarre stood against the wall at their sides. In the darkness he couldn’t make out any details. Magic and power screamed from the figures in opposition to him. If the standing elves were samurai, they were of a kind Serrin could never have imagined. The power they radiated as tangibly as body heat to an IR scanner wasn’t that of mere physical adepts. These were beings of raw power and force. They never moved a muscle.