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Walls, bones, dead, undead, dark elves. It just didnt end. Now they had lightning, and Maximos had flashbacks to Johnathan Tomorrow in only the worse way. What beats lightning? Metal. And so Maximos switched hand from right to left and shoved his sword out to take the attack full on, because thats what people like Maximos do.

The lightning struck the blade dancing across the black metal and up his left arm. Sickly pops of red and brown were heard as his skin paid the price or his hubris. Charring a bit on contact, and spasming almost erratically. If his feet were attached to the shadows, he would have flown backwards, instead, as the lightning was trapped, he felt a tingle burn up his arm across his back and down his spine. His legs almost immediately gave out right beneath him, sending him into a knelt position. Rogue sparks caused the shadow's already spiky hair to extend and stand on end.

In that moment, with a burning in his body. Maximos realized something. He was pissed off. It was a new emotion, he had a conflict of rage, and shame, and it showed.

The shadows ran to their master, in an unholy, and yet almost natural way they hid his face. All onlookers would see of the crouched shadow was the sickly white pulse of his right cutting through the fabric of night like a cigar burning in the middle of a black room. And pearly white teeth, gritting, and almost glowing in blind rage. Maximos arched his right arm up finger metal talons screeching against each other as they bent at the knuckle making a vicious claw which was sent soaring straight down in the metal roof of the truck.

The metal screamed in protest as it was penetrated and torn, the metal monstrosity he called a limb jerking to the right and ripping up a four foot track of sheet MACK Truck metal. The warped and steel shaping to the contours of his hand as it was peeled back like a sardine can. And without warning the Shadow vanished into the truck itself. Mr. Brown had said this was more than a truck, and he was right. But it was also pitch black, Maximos was home.

There was a definite sound of motion, and the sight of the black shadow stirring as if the night itself was busy in the bed of the truck. And slowly 100ft later the vehicle came to a dead stop.

But it did not fall silent. At almost the exact moment the tires stopped turning there was a loud bang echoing down the street as the door in the rear of the truck was kicked wide open and slammed against the furthest reaches of its hinges, nearly breaking. With practiced excellence Maximos exited the back of the truck.

There was no rage on his face, no just an icy cold child. Atop his head was a black bullet proof helm with a black visor pulled down over his eyes, like you might seem a member of SWAT wearing, across his chest was a black kevlar vest, it was weighty and thick, but that was no problem at all. At his back strapped over his right shoulder and down to his left hip, was a SPAS12 pump action shotgun. Across his left shoulder, down to his right hip was a black obsidian long sword. Strapped to his right leg, an M1911 pistol. Finally in his hands...a G-36 5.56mm Assault Rifle, his left hand already squeezing the trigger in three shot bursts while his right guided the shot. He spared no time, no expense and no mercy.

If the worst they had was spells and arrows, they were dead. After all did they really expect the man atop the truck with a sword and a magic arm to break out on them like an ex-SWAT Team member? No way in hell. Even Reinhart on the roof never knew this side of the shadow.

In the pockets of his jacket were seven clips, more than enough. And across his waist, three frag grenades.

Could the elves dodge swords? Could they dodge arrows? That was great, but it would take one hell of a reflex save to dodge a bullet from a surprise attack. Especially when the man firing the gun can see through walls and know where to aim before he revealed himself. Sure, he couldnt fire through walls but they were peeking to shoot their bows and spells werent they? And he could read who had the highest arcana.

His stance was low, his aim was precise, with cold efficient accuracy aiming for those still unfortunate enough to be in range. For any still hiding in an alley or building anywhere in close rang, as they certainly had to be hiding if they werent out charging with swords, his left was in the process of flicking off a pin and sending a small round ball of explosive death their way.

Two frags down. None of Maximos' speed was lost in the assault. This wasnt new to him anymore, it just wasnt preferred. Combining even a rudimentary ability with more advanced weaponry took all the fun out of things. But, this wasnt a game anymore. He was aiming to kill.

To those that dared ask the question how? There were two words that answered everything, "Dante Decker".

Maximos was a very good student, and he always kept up with new material. You dont need to know how to work a car or how a computer works, to pull a trigger and aim a shot.

Except that with a dimesional lock in place, the 'ghost' would not be able to enter the prime material. An ethereal creature, like a ghost would not be able to gain access into the prime whose area is affected by the dimensional lock, though it would not hinder their movements. Its function was simply to prevent extraplanar transportation, in this case, the prime material and the ethereal.

Unless of course, the ghostlike properties were not like that of an actual ghost's ethereal state, but rather like a gaseous form, which reduced the body's substance into mist so that it was able to move through small cracks, or have large objects move through the body.

With a target still moving away, as stated before, the drow unit would not be doing anything. Crossbow bolts produced no effect at all, so there was no point in further shooting at the people, and the wands were used to make their strike at the best opportunity possible, making them useless now that the truck had passed. So the drow would go back to hiding until it went away, unless of course, some new developments occured which would leave something within their threat range to attack from alleys and buildings.

But even if they wanted to advance further, the truck, stopping only thirty metres away after a few seconds, would produce a heavily armed man laying down a hailstorm of bullets at the buildings and alleyways which housed the drow's hiding spots, not even giving them a chance to peek out and take action. Bullets didnt go through brick walls and stuff very easily, but area effect weapons like frag grenades didnt have to, for rolled next to one hiding space, the explosion would eliminate those nearby. And then the others hiding in different alleys and buildings would retreat further into the alleys and buildings and away from the opening so as not to get caught with a grenade next to them.

So then instead, a bunch of the soldiers would be mowed down, real fast, before they could seek cover, because they were stupid and suddenly left the alleys, having decided to continued to shoot at a truck that was passing by out of their view from an alley and moving out of range while they had previously shot at it from the side alleys, having scambled to find cover so as not to be run over when it came down the street behind them. While others would seek cover when it passed and three casters had shot lightning at it, further remaining, as they should have done in the alleys.

Bombs blew up, and those unlucky enough to be close to the opening of the alleyways or doorways would be explodedededed as previously stated.

So, while the drow waited in the alleys for danger to pass by, they would suddenly be surprised by man coming in for some close ranged BACK ALLEY SHOOTOUT.

Okay, so lets say at least one dorw was killed by each grenade, which narrowed it down to eighteen left. We'll say that one of them was one of the casters using a wand of lightning, and another was just one of the crossbow guys. Additionally, we'll say three of the soldiers were dumb and exited the alley when they didnt have a reason to to persue a target that was out of their field of vision from the alleys and moving out of range, being shot down. That left fifteen of the drow forces to be left in the alleys, doorways, and maybe a building here or there.

The closets alley he'd come by would have, say, four drow. Two casters, and two soldiers. He'd turn the corner, already knowing their positions, and unload three shots into the nearest one, we'll say one of the casters, being one of the three who used a wand of lightning, whereas at that point, the other three drow would notice him. Another three shots, and a soldier went down. Another three, and the other soldier would go down in the process of trying to open the fancy low mass shields. And as for the caster in the back of the crowd, would cast a simple spell out of desperation the moment the three remaining ones noticed him, a simple magic missile spell, because at this range and limited time, it was the most useful spell, even if it was probably inefficient, because it had virtually no casting time at all, and the effects were instantaneous. Five searing bolts of energy would home into the man's face, going for the most delicate organs in the area of a normal person's face; the eyes. Magic missile's bypassed armour and stuff like that, but did not bypass a shield spell. A face shield would not stop it, as for the precise location of the eyes which were not visible, the caster simply had to dictate the target area of the man to be roughly where the eyes on a person would be, basically a rough estimate rather than a precise attack.


As for the others... well, gunfire right? The soldiers would take the time while not having to be the ones dealing with the man to activate their shields and draw melee weapons. because they could hear the gunfire, and screaming. And their own crossbows were low mass projectiles, so their own sheilds would prevent its use. The casters of course, would be half preparing spells, more just pulling wands for quick use though.

The gun jerked against his shoulder, and his face remained icy cold. He charged forward, his feet splashing in puddles and nimbly avoiding bodies and wreckage.

He never flinched or wavered as the blood of his victims splattered against the walls. And pooled across the floors. He charged forward. His stance was kept low to the ground to give him the time and room to duck and dodge behind cover if the need be. Though the need had yet to arise. He never budged as the frag exploded, he could see at least one definite life sign fade, though that said nothing for those that were simply injured and lay dying, or were able to escape, and he hadnt the time to closely read each of them.

Dinge, and the smell of mildew and rot inside the moldy back alley. Barton was a dream town from the front, but behind that calm facade there was always something far less appealing. Something that had marred this place way before his current prey every stepped foot in these dark backways.

Squeeze the trigger, but dont choke it.

One fell. His rage frozen his gaze like a vicious storm.

Guide the shot, dont force it...

His view shifted, upper chest, right between the shoulders. The second fell. The recoil pressing into his torso and right shoulder.

Tighten up, shoot it dont let it shoot you...

An all too familiar voice rung out in his mind. The enemies were escaping he kicked off the ground jumping atop a nearby box obstructing his path. As his legs kicked off they bent already bracing for impact, his right hand moved to squeeze off three more shots, and a third fell. Just before his feet touched the ground his sights met the caster.

It was already too late.

Five shots barreled down the alley directly at him. There wasnt time, or room to dodge in mid air. And it was coming, and coming straight for his head. He released his right arm flipping the rifle into his left, as his right moved over his face.

He had no idea where on his face the bolts of energy were headed but he knew what he valued most and that was his eyes. Unfortunately for Maximos, a giant super powered metallic claw lacks the dexterity and control necessary for aiming a gun, and so the armor on his right arm had been dissolved. This left the bandaged limb to take the shot dead on. The magic missile as it was would impact the arm, a piece of himself as opposed to armor.

And simultaneously Maximos would squeeze the trigger of the rifle with his left hand attempting to fire a volley of several shots at the spell caster. With his soul sight engaged he could see clear through his own arm at the casters location. While his aim wasnt nearly as good as before, he held the trigger a bit longer so as to provide a few extra shots to pick up the slack. Spell casters were not exactly known for their agility, and this was a "hail of bullets", directed at the caster.

Meanwhile, his arm was pelted five times. The first smacking his straight to the ground, boots squeaking as the wet rubber pressed against blacktop. Without delay he was already pressing forward. The following attacks struck, the bolts impacted his arm with a metallic "gong", and spilled over slithering over the helmet, around his form and behind him. While the missles should phase through armor, Maximos' arm had proven in the past its hunger for magical attacks when it ate the necromancers weakening spell. Normally the armor shields the arm against attacks before attempting to syphon energy from them but without armor he was forced to whether them. When the attacks were over his right arm was numb, and let of a gentle humming as the metal bones resonated. Though with a tight squeeze of his right arm he rectified that.

He resumed his stance and pressed forward, hopefully less one spell caster. A gently dark violet armor, coursed over his right arm, from the bits of energy it had managed to steal before the spells faded. His targets were likely far more aware of his presence. But that didnt matter in the slightest.

And so the spellcaster would be mowed down. Because his action was made in order to distract the man by attacking his eyes so that he may run away. Only it didnt happen, so he'd get 'pumped full of lead' as they say.

As for those who were left? Well, the soldiers got their shields up. And the casters would be fishing around looking for suitable tools they had at their disposal.

We'll say this group had five drow. Which left... six unaccounted for.

Safe to say, the casters would be in the back of the group. Because they didnt have any real defense of their own, so they relied on the soldiers to defend them while they got their s**t ready. Actual casting time varied even if they fished spell components, so they were limited to spells which had low casting times due to the tight spaces and limited vision the alleys allowed.

And apparently a lot of spells had casting times of 'one standard action'. Drawing a weapon was considered a standard action in game terms, so apparently many spells could be performed faster that originally planned, which was... well, odd.

But they were going to to do simple spells anyway, because the writer says so.

As for the soldiers, well, they get blown up, so theres nothing much to say about them.

Anyway, back to the simplistic stuff. The mans tepped into clear view, presumably at the end of the alley. So what did the casters have, we'll assume there are three in this group of five, and the two soldiers would be blown up shortly after the man stepped into clear view to throw his grenade, along with one of the casters for good measure, because he was standing close to them.

Okay, so what the duece did the two which wouldnt be blown up a moment later have? An icicle carved from crystal and a flask with some sort of liquid in it.

Well, time to see what develops from it.

BLAH! They both let off a spell using the material component they had managed to grab before the man showed himself, casting the spell which apparently took a single action to perform when he did so.





And so, a stream of cold air would shoot out from the hand of one, between the soldiers in the front, to try and attack the man, and the other would make a sudden burst of acid appear right where the man was standing, like, a sudden appearance of acid that exploded into a ten foot spray centered on the man. Of course, with all te armour he wore, he'd probably feel none of it, but the gear would be subject to the corrosive liquid, yes?


Hey, what if one of the unaccounted for drow which was hiding in a doorway or a building decided to cast that corosive burst spell on the truck sitting in the middle of the road? The spell had an insane range of at least 400 ft, so it would be easily within reason to do so. Yeah, lets say that happened. And the target... well, we'll say like... the front of the truck, underneath it, since the caster wouldnt be able to see past its mass anyway. Just to burn off the front tires and mess up the axels and all that. And maybe people close to the ten foot spray would have some land of their shoes or something.