Sawyer approached nonchalantly, not having much reaction at all to the son of Gwyn who radiated with light, clad in iron and steel with a sword of flickering electricity clutched in his gauntlets. Sawyer had already drew his own sword, bound by leather with its two sides sharpened to a fine, razor edge. His hands clutched around its hilt tightly, holding it at bay in a combat stance. "What's your deal, friend?"