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"Massster..." this came from a disembodied head floating in front of Raistlin's desk. The archmagus didn't look up immediately, busy scratching writing onto a piece of flattened parchment, the quill in his thin golden fingers practically vibrating with the speed of his notes.

Genessia was a land of fascinating marvels. He'd be sure not to forget a single one.

"Masssster pleasssse," the head tried a second time.

Finally, Raistlin glanced up, impatient at the interruption. "What?"

"Therrrre is an intruderrr in the Grrove."

That. That was interesting, and Raistlin's hand finally stilled. "In the Grove, you say?"

"Yesssss. The defenderrrssss have not been able to kill it..."

Extremely interesting. Something from Genessia, no doubt, nothing else would make sense. The blackrobe dabbed the last of the ink off the feather quill onto a pad and set the instrument aside, and then took the time to carefully close up the inkwell. This could take a while.

And so it was that whatever this stranger was doing, he suddenly wasn't the only living creature in the dark, ancient grove. Raistlin lurked in the deepest shadows, silently watching.

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Thank you. With his arm back, Raistlin's freed hand went to the many pouches at his waist, twisting open one in particular and dabbing a finger in the contents inside.

Bat guano.

Another pouch.

Sulfur.

Quick and without having to look or spare any thought for it, as natural as Wade cocking a gun might be.

"...With fire, specifically? It would be a short burst, but yes."

"I mean shit dude, anything." He hefted the rock, tossing it from hand to hand as he thought.

"Bet you can't beat my rock break high score."

"Perhaps not. My targets are not ordinarily stone."

Usually if Raistlin uses his magic against something, it's living. You know, until it isn't.

"Go ahead."

"Don't be a quitter, rocks pop if you heat them up enough." But! He cocks his arm back, and hucks that rock in a nice, long arc, lengthwise in front of Raistlin.

The roiling ball of fire that suddenly roars away from Raistlin's hand is only a few feet wide, but it's fast, overtaking the rock mid-air. When the rock lands, it's hissing with steam and, yes, after a moment in the comparatively cold air, cracking apart. More of a crumble than a pop.

But hey, it's broken.

Look, it's less an exploding rock Wade wants to see, and more fucking fireballs fuck yeah!

Wade let out an absolutely pumped whoop as the ball of fire engulfed the rock, obviously more than just a little pleased with the display.

FUCK YEAH MAGIC.

"You got lightning bolts too?"

That enthusiasm does, at least, earn a faint smirk from the mage.

"Of course," a quick dip into a few more pouches, and then, "ready."

"Kick ass, hold on lemme get another rock..." A nice baseball sized number here, once again hucked in the same easy, high and long arc the other took.

"Get it!"

And Raistlin throws his hand out, fingers splayed. The lightning is more sustained, arcing from Raistlin's hand to the sailing rock for its entire trajectory, white-hot and loud.

This one, pops.

And that one got an even louder shout, an enthusiastic "FUCK YEAH" following the loud, deep POP of the rock bursting.

"Fuckin' sweet, alright my turn. I got shit too, check this." Okay, glocks weren't exactly magic, but for what looked to be a medieval forest wizard, Wade was pretty sure it'd still be you know, fun to watch, right? How many guns could Raistlin have seen anyway?

As if he'd done this a million times before, his boot slipped under another rock, one kick up put it in his hand, and in the same fluid motion that rock was sent flying upwards.

Gun drawn, aim locked, and with a thunderous CRACK, rock shards exploded out towards the grove.

MMMMMAGIC.

How many guns could Raistlin have seen? Well, let's answer that--

"--What is that?"

One. Just the one, right now.

Yes good, perfect. He is genuinely pleased to see that he gets to be the gun teacher. He gestures with the still smoking weapon.

"This is a gun. Specifically, a G20, ten millimeter. This bitch can turn a human head into a fine red mist with about five hundred to seven hundred pounds of energy."

And of course, Raistlin steps closer to look at the gun, and-- oh good, he's reaching for it, too.

"But it isn't magic? How does it--"

"Hoold on, hold on, wait up-" Let him get the safety on before he hands it over. He can handle getting shot in the face. Pretty sure his new bestie can't. Once he's got that handled, Raistlin gets handed the gun.

"Well when you don't have magic, technology does the rest. Shit like this comes in bigger sizes too. Wait until I show you a bazooka. Guns are pretty much just tiny, controlled explosions in a tunnel."

Yeah no, Raistlin's day would be ruined with any part of him getting shot, let alone his face. And then Wade's forever would be ruined, trapped in here with his corpse by the Shoikan Grove.

Raistlin actually lets go of his staff -- which stays upright on its own -- to turn the gun over in his slender, golden hands. Of course, part of this examination is peering down the barrel because what does he know about gun safety? Nothing.

"A tiny, controlled explosion in a tunnel... behind a projectile?" Otherwise how was it murdering things at range?

"Doooon't look in that end." He's just gonna... reach over and... move the barrel away from Raistlin's face.

"Safety's on but I don't want to take any chances with someone who's face doesn't grow back. Look, I can take this apart if you want." Then he can answer a lot of his own questions, and NOT get shot! Win win!

"Yeah, pretty much. The make of the gun decides the power of the explosion and the size of the bullet."

And Raistlin moved to hand it back, with an accompanies, "Yes, do."

Take it apart! He wants to see all the parts!

"The bullet being the projectile in question. No larger than an arrowhead, I should think."

That tunnel wasn't exactly sized for anything huge, by that measurement.

Taking the gun back, it was with quick, almost mechanical efficiency that he disassembled the gun, kneeling to lay the parts out properly. After all, he doesn't want to stand there and juggle everything.

"Yep, the bullets come in two parts-" He snagged one, working it a bit until the shell popped off, the scent of gunpowder in the air.

"The casing has the gunpowder in it, and the actual bullet is this-" Held out for inspection, it was even smaller than an arrowhead.

Raistlin didn't immediately follow him to the ground, of course, opting to lean against his staff and watch, at first. But when the bullet was dismantled and held out, the mage went ahead and crouched down to take it in his free hand, the other clutched onto his staff for support.

"And gunpowder is... a... combustible?" Why else would it be needed for the explosion, right? Right. Something like alcohol but more-so, to burn so fast as to explode in such a tiny space, with so much force.

"And how does it ignite?"

"Ignition's in the gun." A little more fiddling with the gun, and with a sudden click and SNAP, sparks shot from the section he'd been playing with.

"That sets off the powder, sends out the bullet, and the casing," he jangled the metal casing about, "is just tossed on the ground. They got a ton of different kinds of bullets too, shit like tracers, hollow tips, explosive ammo, they got shit for anything."

"And it sends it out so fast that it does..." a gesture off toward the latest of the unfortunate rocks, or at least the pieces of it, "that. Interesting. Much more efficient than archery."

"Yeah, and it's louder too." He sounds gleeful about that one.

"I got tons of different rounds if you wanna pick those apart."

"Is being louder particularly useful?"

In general, Wade.

"No, but it makes me giggle like a fresh faced school girl, and that's all that matters."

"I trust you realize how exceedingly peculiar you are."

The shade of it all.