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Maximos did as stated above. No no, no trick blades held in numbs at the end of any polearms would be impaling him. He simply turned at the hip, and stepped to the side, avoiding it easily, turning so that his shoulders were parallel with the scythe, his chest facing it. That sort of sudden attack was excellent against a surprised or unsuspecting opponent. But Max was neither of the above, his eyes had never left Dorkuto. Likely, his opponent would turn the thrust, into a wide arcing slash, or try a quick flip of the weapon to deliver the blade. Maximos would simply duck, lean back or sidestep again as the need be. A conflict required two parties. And Max wasnt ready. He was talking, and thinking. And admonished his opponent...

Dont be rude.

As for his own sword? Maximos would later question the wisdom even the very manner in which the creature before him kicked the blade of a sword. There was flat sure, but the chance of hitting that and not any of the now all sharp edges was just....

...Well just looking at this creature ridiculous was becoming a theme. The Sword existed because the sword stone. Without the magic to bind it, it was nothing. Thusly why when it was tossed it unraveled, the very motion of tossing it providing the force necessary to undo it. If simply tossing the sword would undo it, kicking it certainly would. And the Thing across Maximos would find its foot connecting with something the consistency of a wet paper towel, and then find the blade becoming little more than a tuft of black puff.

As promised, Maximos continued, with only one key difference. He yawned first. The Shadow has no patience for the rude. Or foolish. He was never one to be drawn into the game so to speak, but waited patiently outside of it for the fight to begin. Most times finding that feigned ignorance, or laxity brought his opponents true abilities to bear.



All continued as planned, until...



This was now non-chalantly followed by.

Care to try that again?

And he brandished his blade, pointing it at his opponent, as it sat for the moment loose in his left hand.

((Yep. S'gonna get old. Though as promised via PM.))

Where was the object binding Max's feet? Where was the wall impeding his path, the spell slowing his movement perhaps? No there was nothing. Nothing but a man fully capable of talking, while giving his full attention to the fight at hand.

Now he was being knee'd and swung at? This creature clearly had far more agility than Maximos had ever encountered previously. He was able to swing a two handed weapon, with force...force enough to actually effect someone. But...he only required one foot, to do so. He didnt fall off balance or anything!

But Max saw the counter necessary. Maximos need only drop. The knee would be soon to follow, Maximos' left would reach out to intercept the blunt limb, but as Maximos' right was not at all occupied, no sooner than did the scythe pass overhead, then the shadow would stand again. Only, as his opponent was on one foot, Maximos would wipe his right arm out and sweet the leg out from under the scythe wielder, in the same motion in which he stood. His right coming behind the knee to hook and pull it up and out.



Now if Dorkuto could successful complete a by its nature unbalancing slash on one foot, land his leg, or his weapon to suddenly gather his balance again in the time it took for Maximos (a very fast man) to simply drop to a knee, and swipe his arm...well it just wasnt a pleasant place to think about.

Otherwise, with unless he would say.



All continued as planned, until...



This was now non-chalantly followed by a very blunt.

Your getting annoying, creature.

And he brandished his blade, pointing it at his opponent, as it sat for the moment loose in his left hand.

Shadowlander training had rendered Maximos immune to normal arrow fire. Not magically of course, he'd duck and dodge and catch with the ease at which some breath. Ruuvan knew that. These arrows, they had to be special and that quiver was a kind of magic all its own.

That made the shadow cautious. He stood still as Ruuvan prepped his arrows, a sort of a draw stance. His thumb precariously perched on his dagger. It was an odd thing, a black handle and a glass looking 1ft long blade.

Ruuvan fired. Maximos stepped forward, left leg leading, right arm following as he tossed the dagger straight at the arrows. The first exploded pouring forth a sort of magic....

The dagger immediately responded. Its clear glass blade seemed to turn a sort of foggy green tint, and with the force of the arrows windy shot it was flung back at its owner. Maximos quickly caught it and thrust it forward into the gust. The fog grew thicker, clearer, but he was only moved back a few inches as the arcana was a good part fed into the blade.

And then he watched. Two arrows hung at nothing. That couldnt have been good. Sparks traced down his arm rolling around the hilt of the dagger, mixing an odd dark purple with the smoky green, the blade was still transparent but less clear.

Ruuvan had notched another three. And Maximos, now made a step by step advance. You dont charge a man with an armed range weapon.

No.

There was something off here. Something wrong.

Maximos foot screeched to a halt, right foot leading, left following close. Sure he was fearless, but walking into a trap was stupid. He didnt need to turn to see the leylines leading to each arrow drawing a cross on the floor. He didnt need his magic to know that boxes in fights were a back thing, and he was in.

Ruuvan cocked and arrow, and the silent shadow gazed at it. The elf had his finger on the trigger...of something. There was no telling what could or might come of this, all he knew was that he was at the elves mercy. He was at the crux of a strategy. A strategic manuever...

He couldnt help but smile.

In this most pressing of moments, where the elf before him assaulted him with something he truly did not expect what else could he do other than to match strategies, like blades and see who was the victor. But he couldnt plan with no information, he would have to push the envelope and try and incite Ruuvan to act and how he could strategize something before it was too late. Deep quick thinking. Now things were getting challenging!

Without warning, he thrust his short blade forward, its 1ft blade was feet away from being anywhere near Ruuvan. But he held it, and aimed it as if it could. Sparks jumped from his hand.

The green smog filling the small glass dagger swirled with a sort of royal purple mist, the two colors never mixing but tumbling over each other stirred by an ethereal air.

Ankokuko...

He said meaningfully just under his breath.

I hope your ready...

And then without a single warning or word more, he burst forward, his right hand flew up to grab the hilt of the long and previously untouched sheathed sword at his back, while his left brought the dagger out to his side. Trailing his right side was a plume of white from his right eye which detailed the straight line of his path.

Between now and that border of the box, he figured Ruuvan had to act. How? What? He hadnt a clue, but he knew had to keep his eyes open.

The air of the Void had a murky quality to it, the mist that filled it up obscuring ones vision at a distance while not even bothering it close range. The lone figure stood in the mist, unbothered by the shadows that flitted through it, the tall man creature immobile. When one got closer, it was clear that it was perhaps humanoid in nature beneath the western style armor, the metal shining on its' own. That was another quality of this odd place, there was no sun, but yet there was light as if from a candle, quite odd.

Regardless, The armored creature stood immobile, it's hands crossed over the hilt of a longsword with it's tip driven down into the earth. A shield was strapped to it's back, hanging somewhat loosely to allow for quick pulls. Nothing about the armor was ostentatious, all was practical and allowed for optimum defense without sacrificng to much mobility. The only symbol on the armor was a sunburst over the chest peice, where the heart would be.

The visor of the helmet was flipped down, hiding the face well. Not even the eyes showed through thanks to the visor.

No movement, no thought, no fear. The armor shifted not an inch, not a meter. The faceplate revealed nothing to his apparent opponent. Before Mask could get to close, the armored suit would begin to move, sword pulled out of the ground by the right hand, and the left swooping the shield around." Challenge Accepted." A Deep and imperious tone rolled fourth from the armor, echoing oddly in the armor.

By that time, Mask would have had time to close in, dropping to his knee for the stab. The only problem was, the Knights weapon happened to be quite abit longer. With that in mind, if it had one, the knight would repost, sweeping the blade infront of him in an oddly fancy swipe, stepping away with whatever leg Mask had been aiming for and leaving his other leg in place. The blade would either hit and cut or deflect the much lighter knife.

Just because he was so heavily armored, didn't mean he was slow, not by a long shot. The armor ground and grated, metal plates sliding across one another in an agonizing sound that would surely irritate the man inside the suit to no end, right? but it echoed so oddly...as if there were nothing within.

PANG!

Metal on Metal made for a loud noise, no matter who you were. The armor was peirced easily, no resistance at all, and the arm stopped when it could go no further on its' own." That....was entirely unnecessary. You almost hit me." the voice was still just as deep up close, if abit dry. With lurch, the armor would push forward into the lighter man,shield swinging around as it tried to turn, the blunt object seaking to hurt and hurt alone.

The sword hand never got weaker, now did it seem to suffer any adverse effects. The reason there was no chainmail with this armor was because it had no use for it. A skeleton in a suit of armor had plenty of defense all it's own, namely the smaller size of it's body and the huge space between steel and bone.

" Don't do that again."

And he'd get shield bashed for his efforts. It had been the edge of the shield that would have hit him the first time, thanks to it being one on his left and two in an odd position to hit with the front. So when he brought it back, it would be a simple matter amongst his opponents spinning and such to punch the flat peice of steel forward, driving in to avoid the neck stab. At best, he'd be hitting the back, perhaps the shoulder.

There was one other thing...while he could really lift his arm out wide with his sword, he could stab with it, and stab he would, right Towards Masks now very unprotected back.