"Just my luck. A shitty smuggler. Okay, you dumb сunt. Hands up." [i]Gods, Isabella fuсking hated smugglers.[/i] [i]Garin could see her coming for a bit. The woman was hulking in size, fully armored in a suit of shining, blackened steel, primarily for aesthetic purposes. She was six feet and seven inches tall, while hundreds of links of perfect chainmail underneath the plates. The helm that covered her head was a barbuta helmet in design, sporting a deep violet plume protruding from it's back.[/i] [i]Clasped within her hands was a poleaxe, of which was about as lengthy as she was, the weapon's alloyed steel shaft wrapped with blackened leather to comfort her grip. The steel axehead extended outwards for about a foot, the edge slanting and curving slightly for a terrifically effective blade against flesh and armor, with the blunt force backing it up. A two-foot long spike protruded from the top of the shaft like a spearhead, for spearing against foes. The weapon was versatile as all hell. Strapped tightly to her waist looked to have been yet another axe, though much more simpler. It's blade was thick yet powerful, with a single head and a leather grip.[/i] [i]When Isabella drew closer, Garin could feel his firearms click and lock into place, his technology deactivating as his abilities drained away. There was something ominous to her presence, as she slammed the halberd down.[/i]

1. Did I say the post was open? 2. He's in his house... 3. Boi.

1. I don't care. 2. Then I kick down the door in the next reply. 3. Excuse me? I am the embodiment of judgement, motherfuсker.

Okay? Also, I didn't say you could kill him. I'm not fighting you, and you can't force it onto me, cuck.