Iron Crisis Pt3 IC

[Awful]

"Anri" High Elf Eldritch Knight. Darkvision: 60ft Blindsight: 10ft AC: 17 HP: 68/72 PP: 15 PIv: 12 PIs: 12 Conditions: Concentrating on: 7 / 7 d8 HD Second wind 1d10+7 1/1 Action surge 1/1 Spell Slots- 4/4 1st, 2/2 2nd Anri had very swiftly decided she hated the sewers. She had come with Caelyn, having decided to stick by the other elf for a while, but that had turned out poorly. Everything was stinky and slimy and, from what her instincts told her, incredibly unhygenic. She had to wind her pelt about her so it didn't drag in the filth, and even then, people-processings dripped from the ceilings and pipes. Her expression, normally stern, had steadily got grimmer as the venture had processed, until she looked downright irate. She was seventy percent of the way of straight up leaving for the world above, where things were less smelly, when it seems they'd encountered a fight. Even this failed to improve her mood too much. With a sharp click of her tongue, the blade of her chopper ignited, and she recoiled at the smell of burnt wall-slime where it scraped against the stone. Something big and exciting-sounding roared ahead, but Beard was bulky in his armour and the elf didn't want to risk brushing against the disgusting goop on the walls. Anri stayed where she was, tapping her axe with her clawtips in impatience. "Sewers are worse than the boat," she said, a touch, well, touchily. "Is there something fun to fight? I can't see."

Spoiler: OOC

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Action: ready a GFB (or melee if that's not allowed) or anything that comes into reach, i guess.)
BA: ignite the greataxe.