[@Fallenreaper]
[i]Words could not express the joy which shone on the barbarian's face as he saw his opponent advance. She was small and with little protection, yet had as much courage as King Guzman. This meant a great deal in Gonad's eye. He strode quickly towards Trixi, more a powerwalk than anything. His arms would remain loose at his sides, but were he to get within the woman's reach he'd then cock back his left fist as if he were going to slug her right in the gobhole. It could scarcely be more straightforward, something that was easily avoided and easily countered? Perhaps, but of all people Gonad knew the true power of simplicity. From this point on, every move Trixie made would be a skip and a hop along the razor's edge. One misstep and that would be all. 

She might have been more than equal to peak athletes, but one look at the barbarian's freakish body would tell her all she needed to know about what would happen should she screw up. Up close, he was even bigger. When one looked at an image of a moose or a horse, one rarely could grasp the true size of the animal. Not until they were right in front of it would the realization of its sheer size become apparent. Were Gonad to stand directly before Trixi, she would have to crane her head straight up vertically to just try and catch a glimpse of his forehead. His hips would be nearly at the level of her chest, each leg probably thicker than her waist. To hit him in the head with her baton, she'd need to be well within his long reach. Not just because of the size of his arms, but because by having to swing higher up at an angle her own reach would be diminished. Each of his scarred hands was big enough to engulf her entire face, and judging by the way the tendons played across his forearms like massively thick piano wires, her face would not stay long in contact with her skull if such a thing occurred. He reeked of alcohol and sweat, of blood and of her daddy, an all-enveloping perfume of war. Those with honed senses often encountered a strange phenomenon at this point. The ambience would dim to an almost nonexistent hum. For a brief moment the background would fade to black, leaving only the ponderous nude monster and empty space. A trick of the brain known as tunnel vision. The mind and the body knowing instinctively that the end was truly nigh, a singular threat taking precedence over all perception. Even without the illusion, Trixi would be able to feel that this was going to be vastly different than the advantage-passing cat and mouse games normally reserved for human combat. This fight was going to redefine the ways a mortal could die.[/i]