The Red Brother had arrived and so from the darkness rose Svyatogor, the knight called Sacred Mountain once sealed in stone, clad in plate black as the night. Only the golden decorations of its armor, dulled from the passage of time and the rigors of combat so they did not shine bright, and the ivory of its weapons were visible in the dark, and then only if you were close by. It was a graceful Frame, sleek and limber, and it strode towards its current comrade not like a lumbering giant crushing the ground underneath itself but with the practiced fluidity of a trained fencer or perhaps a dancer. The machine's poise was almost a reflection of the man within the machine, and they both now hailed their would-be leader with a simple gesture, sword in scabbard held out in the left hand and grasped by the blade right under the hilt. "You have my sword" they said, wordlessly. Despite his misgivings about the group, their employer and his intended target, Lev would go through with the mission as instructed. It was a good chance of ridding the world of parasites like the Vultures.