[u]Balthazar draws the ten-foot long crescent axe from his back, gripping it firmly with both of his hands. Moving his left hand towards the blade, he scrapes his steel gauntlet along the edge releasing a cacophony of shrieks. The blade struggles to alight in flame, hissing sharply at the heavy downpour. It simply glows faintly with heat, not hot enough to burn, but still enough to burn if it comes in contact with flesh. His armor struggles to do the same, holding a faint glow in the murky downpour. The ground squishes and sinks under his feet as he takes a firm fighting stance, a steel vizor covering his eyes with a clang. The embers that reside in his eyes can still be seen, their flame to bright to be quenched by any downpour, no matter how strong.[/u] "[i]So... I'll be fightin' yew, whoever yee be. No hard feelings', tis' but a circumstance of battle. May the best man win, and hope... Just hope that you don't make me angry.[/i]" [u]Balthazar prepares his axe, getting ready to take whatever attack the woman had in store for him and respond accordingly.[/u]