[u]Balthazar curses under his breath as he jams the head of the axe into the ground, raising his right arm and placing his hand on his left shoulder. With a roar of pain that only seems to make the flames more intense, the armor seems to tighten and constrict the dislocated arm, popping it back into place. Panting heavily and struggling to not blackout from the pain, Balthazar grabs his axe once more.[/u] "[i]Yeh... Can rot in hell for all I care... Just... Fuсkin'... Die![/i]" [u]Slamming the axe over his knee, the pole shatters before he is completely engulfed in a swath of flame. A frightening roar of anger resounds out from inside of the pillar as an imposing figure walks out. Blood oozes from the chinks in his armor as it constricts and burns his skin, and it's obvious this form causes great harm to the user. What was once a normal helmet has become that of a roaring bear, and from within the mouth peer two eyes filled with utter [i][b]hatred[/b][/i] and [i][b]anger.[/b][/i] The once elegant crescent axe has become something more brutish, a massive greatsword about seven feet in length. Jagged curves and hooks run down the blade, as if to ensure that even a minor slice from it would cause massive tearing. In his left hand lies a massive great shield, towering in at about eight feet. However, his left arm is plagued with blood as the armor cuts into his arm to steady the shattered bone fragments and keep it in working shape. Balthazar pants heavily, obviously in a massive amount of pain just from using this damned form.[/u] "[i]For the Legion, I shall win this fight. There is no need to hold back, no need to fear death... No need to fear the cut of my enemy's blade. I have no use for weakness, and if I lose here it will be an example of my failure to protect the legion. [b][u]I will not lose![/u][/b][/i]"