Discarding his great-coat, and letting all hints of subtlety fall with it, Maxim drew his long-barreled pistol, hurrying to place himself at the forefront of the crowd. If he could impress them, who knew - he could get a job offer, a reward, a girl, anything they could offer a valiant defender.<br/><br/>He jogged lightly after the dark elf, who seemed to be somewhat too enthusiastic for her own good. Time to see how she fought - and, more importantly, to gauge her skill. He didn't want to be on the recieving end of her sword or her mount, true, but it was still a curiosity to determine whether or not he could take her in a fight, if he absolutely had to.<br/><br/>As he was, he was keeping good time with the dark elf. She had pulled ahead of the small group - herself, her local bitch, the warrior priest, and Maxim himself - and he figured it was only a matter of time before she needed aid. No matter how skilled she was, he was sure there was no way a person of her build and armament could hope to defeat a good twenty wild-men all in a single pitched battle. She'd be hacked to pieces if he and the other two didn't back her up.<br/><br/>Coming well within range, Maxim drew his sabre in his free hand, holding it low and at an angle as he levelled his pistol at the largest and ugliest of the wild-men, arrogantly calling out a challenge as he did so.<br/><br/>"From Reikland with love!" He shouted, pulling the trigger.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>