Seh smiles. "And that's why I don't intend to touch it, dear." She nods and leads the way out, down to the first floor, and off to the small armory. A smallish demon stands there, with a long glaive held in its arms, looking extremely uncomfortable, especially given the small burns pocking its skin, near where the glaive's handle would be touching its skin. It's also wearing thick gloves to handle it.<br/><br/>The glaive itself consists of a long darkwood haft is threaded with veins of gold, and shod with cool black adamantine.  The blade appears to be made of the purest ruby, glittering and glowing with an inner light. Near the point where the handle and blade meet, in a flowing, elven script, is a single word,<em>Feringale.</em>