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View Full Version : Round 1: Archer (Gel'talot) VS. Ritualist (T'shuva) - Judge x Kiki x



Kiki
04-14-2015, 06:31 PM
http://media.tumblr.com/010f763a3d4afd222a9f88bcdaef224a/tumblr_inline_nbyvlrkeTH1rvzbh6.jpg

You wake up, facedown. Mouth full of sand. Sun beating down on your back. Your clothes are sand-swept, disheveled. Your body is parched – when is the last time you’ve had water? Food too is also a distant memory. How long until you succumb to the heat?

There is nothing, a barren wasteland of dust. Nothing but sand, as far as the eye can see. But perhaps – a mirage? A person in the distance. Or is your thirsty mind playing tricks?

But, perhaps no trick of your weary eye – between yourself and the wavering image of another approaching – there is but a singular, small water canteen tucked snuggly amongst the drifts of sand. The contents are cool, and will quench your intense thirst, enough that you may be able to traverse this harsh landscape and find your way through.

To claim it as your own, you must fight.

(After each combatant makes two (2) posts, the GM will make a post on any changing conditions.)

(You have 5 posts per person and 72 hours to respond between each post. By the flip of a coin, the warrior will go first.)

By the flip of a coin, the first to post is the Ritualist.

StanCold
04-21-2015, 09:33 PM
T'shuva fervently spat the sand out of his mouth as he lifted himself with support from his staff. He looked about himself and growled as he realized he had been stranded in a desert of all places. He scratched some flakes of dried skins off his arms and face. That was when T'shuva saw the canteen... and his competitor.

"Eh, you," shouted the lizardman at his diminutive competitor, "I'm gonna take that water if it's all the same to you!" T'shuva did not want to take any chances. He palmed his eagle totem. When he did, he felt a thrum of energy shoot up his arm and through his body. With that, he stepped forward. This was a new environment for him, but it was nature nonetheless. T'shuva didn't remember many things, but if there's one thing he knows, if there's one thing that was engrained deep in his bones, it was nature. And as far as he knew, that would make all the difference.

~N~
04-22-2015, 08:51 PM
Let us begin (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DaVA6sgOpws).
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
*Pbblt! Ppt, ppt, splllppp*

"Nasty, grainy sands! So hot," cracked the hissing goblin's voice between his parched lips. His eyes stung, his skin burned, and he felt like his head was on fire. Upon trying to swallow, the thirst hit him, and his throat felt like two swollen pieces of sand paper pressing, scratching together. Each of his hands sunk slowly down into the sand he as lying in as he tried to raise himself up on shaky arms.

This must be Hell. It was certainly hot enough to be Hell, and his thirst was something fierce, like some divine punishment.

What... did I do to get here? his pointed little mind wondered. Gel'talot couldn't... remember anything. Save his name--that he had managed to keep.

"Gel'talot..." he muttered and then suddenly reached back to scratch an intense itch that irritated his back, only to find a... bow blocking his hand. How irritating. Slipping his claws underneath the bow, he finally found some relief.

*scratch, scratch, scra--*

"Eh, you! I'm gonna take that water if it's all the same to you!"

His nails stopped. Water? There was... WATER in this godforsaken place?!

Beady eyes shot forward, glimpsing through flitting grains of sand the distant image of a.... What was that? A... giant... talking... lizard?

(somewhere, in some distant universe, an insurance marketing team is suddenly inspired)

Can't be. Heat's obviously gettin' to us, he thought. Blinking and blinking again, the slightly hazy, sun-saturated image of the tall, lumbering reptile remained.

"Thuck," Gel'talot spat through his swollen tongue. His fingers pulled back and slid lightly over the bow again.

It felt warm... and natural. Yes. He caressed its smooth surface gently. And then they searched further... and found...

Arrows. Now, his cracked, grin lips spread slowly into a toothy smile: This, he knew.

The lizardman appeared to move more quickly. Was he holding something? A... stick?

Shifting his eyes a bit, he found the container.... oddly placed between them, half-buried in the sand. The lizard was making his way towards it. Gel'talot coughed, straining his throat. His need for water was making it difficult to breathe and think.

"Pay-shunth!" he rasped. His thirst was so great, he would have shed tears, but no tears would come. Red with irritation, his eyes shifted once more to the little sage brushes and grasses that sparsely dotted the lazily shifting sands. Right now, Gel'talot was out in the open, like the lizard.

But Gel'talot was small and the grasses and brush were small, and the sands were great, shifting like a slow, bronze ocean. Glancing around behind his shoulder, the goblin shifted and slunk towards the nearest brush, further back, near the crest of a dune, deliberately sliding partially into the sands, half-covered, and now in the cover of the brush.

Slowly, he pulled his wooden bow from his back, along with an arrow and
began nocking it, his movements smooth and precise, without thought or noise. His muscles were falling into an old familiar routine now--one they knew instinctively.

He was a good distance away from the lizard with a significant advantage in height, and now, lying still, in cover, half-buried, with the sands shifting in various movements here and there, and the heat playing tricks on the eyes, he calculated that he was effectively invisible to his scaly opponent.

"Thocuth..." he hissed softly, slowing down his heartbeat, bringing his opponent sharply into focus...

StanCold
04-24-2015, 01:46 AM
The adversary may have slunk away, but T'shuva could smell the air of a hunt. I am the prey, eh? And you are the hunter?

He reached into his pouch, filled to the brim with bottles and totems. He needed not look into his pouch, he could differentiate the contents from merely touching the bottle. He pulled one out.

"Dammit," he muttered as, upon closer inspection, it was the wrong bottle. The lizardman looked carefully into his bag and dug around until he found the right one. "Ah-ha!"

He began dancing. Slowly, at first, mumbling something incoherent to himself, in a controlled circle. He picked up pace and, as he did, made a circle in the sand with his tail. His murmurs swelled into steady, rhythmic chanting chanting, "E'ma adama, E'ma adama, E'ma adama..."

He continued gaining speed, unstopping the potion and sprinkling it around, purple flecks scattered in a round formation. "E'ma adama, E'ma adama," he continued, picking up both volume and tempo. He was a blur of green skin and purple cloak and white bones, which rattled against his body as he hastened. His own bones within him creaked with age, but he danced on. "Emaadama emaadama emaadama," he raced at a shout, the ancient words blurred into a single phrase, a cracked and corrupted birdsong.

"Emaadamaemaadamaemaadama E-MA!" He halted, bringing his staff down with a deafened thud against the sand. The bottle was emptied. The pools of potion glowed at his sudden punctuation, then soaked into the sand, their radiance briefly remaining with dampened earth, then fading.

T'shuva nodded and breathed a sigh of contentment. "Eh, alright, you surrender now?" He began walking toward the water.

~N~
04-24-2015, 08:16 PM
I'm Creeping Death (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lXWq3f01e2U)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The dizzying heat seemed to dance with the steps of the lizardman, his chanting carrying into the blistering breeze that wicked away any moisture that managed to escape Gel'talot's cracked green skin. Round and round the shaman went, enacting his dance.

And slower, and slower Gel'talot's breathing became, thoughts fading away like dreams, leaving only crystallized focus, like sand under the scorching heat. The arrow point winked once in a passing ray of light, signalling its deadly readiness, matching the glimmering smile at the end of its feathers.

Then, swift as a death, it was soaring through the sunlit air from its nest, gleaming with lethal intent. Gel'talot's aim was exacting, and T'shuva was not only exposed and well-lit, but preoccupied as he was with his ritual, he would have almost no chance of seeing the arrow, much less reacting to it before it struck home.

Straight for the jugular. At best, it would bring the lizard down in one hit, interrupting his magic and stopping him dead in his tracks--literally. At worst, it would pierce his throat, sending precious blood and vitality sizzling on to the sands. In this heat? That was a death sentence all by itself.

An arrogant combatant, sure of himself and proud of his skill, might have stopped to admire his work. But Gel'talot was neither proud nor arrogant--he was parched with thirst, driven to savage desperation, and he would not stop until his opponent was twitching in the sands in his death throes. Animals, driven by starvation, attack with a relentless, blind fury; and so did Gel'talot, whose lips were caked with a thin white film of dried saliva.

Before the first arrow even found its mark, three more were upon the warm wooden bow. Clenching his pointy teeth together in a grimace, as his muscles strained, tightening up. Heat exhaustion.

"Thocuth..." Gel'talot hissed, willing his mind back to its single objective and forcing the limits of his body back to achieve it.

This time the arrows--all three of them--were aimed at T'shuva's legs. The ritualist would come to wish he had died with the first arrow once he found himself bleeding from his belly and legs, immobilized by three well-placed shots that would bury themselves into his muscles.

Step... step... step.... loose!

They whistled, singing out their mortal anthem to the blazing sun, and no amount of reaction would be able to protect T'shuva from their piercing strikes. Bleeding and immobilized, his opponent would be as a sacrificial bull at the temple altar.

Gel'talot took a deep, sand-flecked breath, holding back a choking cough as the grains tickled his throat, ready to deliver the killing blow to his foe and end this fight as quickly as it started.

Kiki
04-25-2015, 09:42 PM
** GM POST **

The sand, previously immobile in its spacious, eternal landscape, is suddenly kicked up in a ferocious bout of wind - stinging the eyes, singeing the skin with its burning hot granules against you. The wind does not let up; it pushes harder and harder against your form, as if a hand is directly pushing against your chest, forcing you to your knees.

As you peer through the billowing sand towards your opponent with a dazed expression, sand biting and scratching at your face, you notice a cavernous opening beginning to form between the pair of you. The water canteen, which had been so curiously tucked amongst the sand dunes is immediately swallowed up by this mysterious pit of growing twirling sand, sucked down into a dark pit. Sand begins to be pulled into this darkness as well, a downwards spiraling sand tornado, pulling the sand literally out from under your feet and all around you, vacuuming the barren wasteland up before your eyes. You do not know where the dark pit leads, but surely, it would be your death.

StanCold
04-27-2015, 03:17 PM
T'shuva the wind and earth screamed into T'shuva, and a split second would save him from certain death. T'shuva stopped walking and immediately dove to the side as an arrow whistled through the air where his throat was less than a moment ago. He inhaled to sigh relief when...

"K'AFUAH!" T'shuva cursed as three arrows pierced his legs. "You think you can beat T'shuva that easily, eh?" He pulled a bottle out of his pouch, a medicinal potion, and raised it in toast to his adversary as the earth opened in a spiraling vortex of doom. Eh, that wasn't supposed to happen, he thought to himself. "THE EARTH ANSWERS TO T'SHUVA!" he said aloud, taking credit for the terror that loomed before him. He cursed loudly as he yanked each arrow from his legs and poured the potion over his wounds.

~N~
04-27-2015, 08:30 PM
I'll be the suck for your solution (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yZj44XaQhCs)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Somehow... somehow that first shot missed. Gel'talot cursed under his breath, bearing sharp, jagged teeth in a scowl forged of frustration. The lizardman, whose name was "T'shuva" apparently, cried out his boast across the sands a he pulled forth a bottle.

And then something happened that Gel'talot did not expect. The sand seemed to roar with new, ferocious life, like some primordial elemental beast had been awoken. An icy chill shot down the goblin's spine; his beady reddening eyes widening in fright, only to be immediately stung by a sudden whipping wind. Closing them immediately and covering them with his small green claws, Gel'talot whimpered, feeling the remorseless agony that burned over his eyes. Trying to scramble to his feet to get to some kind of shelter, he was brutally thrown against the sand once more by the winds, his face pushed into the scratching grains.

Before he could inhale another mouthful, Gel'talot pushed himself up with his remaining strength, keeping his burning eyes shut in this sandstorm, his body being lashed by a thousand scratches by the howling, scraping sands. He could barely hear T'shuva's cry over the gusting winds, but he did make out these words: "THE EARTH ANSWERS TO T'SHUVA!"

Beaten, lashed and blinded as he was, the goblin shivered in cold fright, his blood running cold even under the burning sun of this hellscape. His heart beat wildly as that proclamation sunk into his thoughts. Could the lizardman be so powerful? Could he have summoned this storm? Gel'talot shook with fear, opening his eyes against all reason, only to glimpse an even more terrifying sight.

It seemed that a giant, swirling vortex had opened up beneath the canteen, sucking it down into a nameless darkness, the sand beginning to flow like water into the gaping maw of this new maelstrom. Gel'talot couldn't keep his fingers and hands from shaking with sheer terror. His vision clouded by the billowing gusts of sand and wind, he could only barely make out the T'shuva's form within them, being pulled closer and closer to the yawning abyss. Only now did the goblin appreciate his decision to not go for the canteen! Beneath his own feet, he too was now being sucked inexorably towards the abominable center of this unholy vortex.

Gel'talot's fear overwhelmed him, and his short legs began to scramble against the vicious undertow of the sands, trying desperately to outpace their voracious pull. His heart hammering with terror, his lungs burning from the harsh winds, dry heat, and intruding grains of sand, he put his left arm once more in front of him, holding his bow tight, to shield his face and eyes. Each push of his green feet only sunk into the driving, tugging flow, getting him seemingly nowhere as the rippling sands pulled at his ankles. It was like trying to walk out of the ocean whilst it pulled you back in---only, it wasn't crushing breakers behind him; only certain death at the bottom of a dark pit. He whined and grunted, gibbering with terror as he tried to fight against the fury of these sands, his strength quickly diminishing.

It wasn't fair! What had he done to deserve this?! his little mind screamed. He just wanted to wake up from all this and be glad it was all a terrible nightmare. But the nightmare refused to let him go, and little by little, despite his frightful struggles, he began slipping, closer and closer to his doom.

Sliding past another tuft of grass, he latched on with his right hand, digging in with a deathgrip. The grasses ripped and he grasped again, deeper, digging desperately for something to hold on to. And for a moment, his motion had stopped. The winds howled angrily as the goblin held on, latched on to the roots of the grasses with his right hand.

It was all he could do. It was bad enough that he could barely see his hands before his face, but the winds in all their raging fury made shooting anything through them a fool's errand. Closing his eyes, he could feel his arm muscles and shoulder going numb, but he could not---would not---let go. No. Let the wounded T'shuva see if he, too, could ride out this tornado.

Gel'talot would, at least, survive.

StanCold
04-27-2015, 11:09 PM
The water, the ultimate goal for T'shuva, disappeared into the deadly abyss. Which meant the only thing now that could quench his thirst was blood. He took his Kris, his long and crooked knife, and plunged it into the sand along with his staff, hoping to find some solid earth beneath. The lizard man could still feel the crackle in his bones, the magic of his eagle totem. For any lesser (or more intelligent) creature, that would mean a hasty retreat from the vortex. For T'shuva, it meant certain victory. He quickly dragged himself onto more solid earth and turned around to look across the whirlpool of sand. Through the sand he could see a small form clinging for dear life. Eh, there you are.

T'shuva pulled himself up with his staff and ran with great caution around the vortex. When the pull of the vacuum nearly swept him off his feet, he slammed his staff into the ground for stability. He might have had speed, but it was still a long trek. Finally, with his staff firmly planted and his cloak flapping towards the vortex and his black Kris squeezed tightly in his hand, T'shuva stood before the goblin.

"T'shuva tells you that he will take the water, eh! What do you do? You shoot arrows into T'shuva's legs! You make T'shuva open the earth and swallow the water! Eh, now T'shuva thirsty!" His orange, beady eyes squinted down in rage at his opponent, careless of the large flecks of skin that blew off of his scaly face. "T'shuva cannot drink the water, eh, so now T'shuva drinks YOUR BLOOD!"

~N~
04-29-2015, 10:55 PM
Make Me Believe... (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=plcIgTFIWf0)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The gods--if there were gods--upended the table of this fight and scattered Gel'talot's hopes and dreams to the merciless, howling winds. Barely able to keep his grip, he had felt at least that he could perhaps outlast his fierce opponent.

But, against all odds, the lizardman now stood mere feet away from him threatening to drink his blood, of all things! Gel'talot was between a crazed lizard shaman with a raised dagger and a sand vortex of doom.

Slowly, he pulled away each of his claws from the root they were so tightly wrapped around. If he was going to die, it would be at the hands of Fate, not this scaly opponent. The sands pulled at his feet, and the winds at his small body, ripping him forcefully away from T'shuva's impending strike. A breath moment of recognition passed between the two combatants, as their eyes met, and then Gel'talot was gone.

Whisked up into the air and slammed back into the ground, rolled and rolled and rolled along like a little tumbling leaf along the unforgiving ground. The whole world spun around and around, making him sick, as he choked on the breaths of air that he struggled to take, smashed repeatedly into sand as he was. Dragged ever closer to the raging eye of the storm.

Instinctively, his small claws reached out, scrabbling for any purchase upon the sand, anything to slow his descent into the gaping maw that was but mere inches away now. His eyes closed, his body scratched and bruised from the fury of the winds, covered in trickling wounds that the grains of sand had ripped across his exposed skin, Gel'talot slipped closer to the pit. Flipped around once more by the savage currents of sand, he faced his impending doom headfirst, claws plunged down in a last ditch effort to save his life...

And then over he went.

He felt nothing. Air, howling wind, but nothing else as he hung weightlessly in the air, some of his arrows slipping free of his quiver into the darkness below.

But he was not pulled down! He simply hung there! Arms in front of him, eyes open, he couldn't see anything below, and yet... he dangled. A tight pressure fixed around his right ankle caused him to pull his little body up and around to see...

A dry, tough root had somehow wrapped itself around his ankle! In this! What kind of twisted magic would spare him from almost certain death?

He laughed a hoarse, raspy goblin laugh. Fate indeed. Cruel gods that were not done with their entertainment, surely.

Maneuvering his body around and curling back up, he braced himself on the edge of the precipice, planting his left foot for stability across from the right, and like a mountain climber, he pulled himself up until now, he was standing with his back to the pit, the winds and sand before him, and the whole universe raging around him.

T'shuva was a shadow through the sand-ridden gusts, but a visible shadow he was. Positioning himself and testing the security of his precarious "foothold" (was that what you called it when it was your foot being held?), Gel'talot found the root unyielding in its grip and smiled as only one who has just been saved from certain death can.

His green claws found three more arrows and began nocking them. The gods had given him one more chance and he was not going to waste it.

"Come after me if you dare," he breathed, recovering his focus on the razor's edge between life and death, preparing his bow for one last strike.

StanCold
04-29-2015, 11:56 PM
T'shuva watched as his target released his hold on the grass and surrender himself to the vortex. T'shuva watched as his only source of sweet hydration tumbled down the sandy slope. T'shuva watched as his vengeance slipped away from him.

T'shuva laughed.

The lizardman's raspy laugh rang out through the swirling chaos as the goblins ankle was snagged by a root right at the precipice of the pit. "You think I would let you choose, eh?!" he screamed sown at the adversary, "You think T'shuva would let you die on your own terms?! No, my tiny friend, YOU DIE AT T'SHUVA'S HANDS!"

T'shuva dropped his staff, sat down, and pushed off with his tail. Brandishing only his knife, he slid down the sandy slope, shifting every so often to realign with his target. Sure, could have ran down and pounced on his target for a more dignified finish. He could have pounced to find the goblin had ducked and then T'shuva would be falling into certain death, without the enemy in tow. Eh, T'shuva is no fool!

As he got closer, the lizardman could see his opponent had drawn his bow and had taken aim. T'shuva was confident that he was going fast enough to make for a difficult target.

As he made his swift approach, he spread his arms and legs wide. "You are mine, rat!" He wrapped his limbs around the small creature, attempting to sink his holy kris into the bastard's flesh. "It's been fun!" he screamed on impact. And if the impact were to break the root and send them both into the abyss, so be it.

~N~
05-01-2015, 01:20 AM
This is the End (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DeumyOzKqgI)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"YOU DIE AT T'SHUVA'S HANDS!"

The ritualist's cry rang out, even through the raging fury of the spinning sands.

"You firsth," Gel'talot spat back, watching T'shuva's shadowy shape slowly shift towards him. He was actually coming through these winds. The goblin archer shook his head in disbelief. This fight was indeed to the death, and the lizardman very clearly would not be satisfied until one or both of them were corpses in this forsaken land. Gritting his pointed little teeth and narrowing his eyes to slits, raising his bow, pulling back the string, and readying his three nocked arrows for action.

T'shuva's blurry form approached, wavering and buffeted by the sandstorm's furious winds and howling punishment, but even still, driven by pure blood lust, he came through, his shape growing clearer as he did.

Time once again slowed for Gel'talot, his claws tightening around the feathered ends of the nocked arrows, the tension tightening on his bowstring as he took aim for T'shuva's chest. With his arms and legs spread, he had made himself as big a target as possible. The goblin's green lips pulled back, cracked with dryness, revealing two rows of yellowing, blood-stained teeth locked together incongruously in concentration. Closer his scaly opponent came, driving through the winds, the sand, the heat, the pain; everything the twisting storm could bring against him.

Closer still....

Closer... so that he could make out now his open mouth, lined with savage teeth of his own, his kris raised in the air...

Loosed from their hold, the arrows covered the short distance between the archer and his attacker instantly, with minimal effect from the currents through which they sang like whistling heralds of death. Before Gel'talot could even release his breath, they struck hard, burying their sharp metallic heads directly into T'shuva's chest.

Sheer, undeniable momentum seemed to carry the ritualist forward still, in spite of the damaging triple impact of those arrows, and with a guttural cry, he hissed, "You are mine, rat!" Stunned at his undaunted advance, Gel'talot could only raise his bow to defend himself when the savage T'shuva leapt upon him, slamming into him and wrapping his arms and legs around the overwhelmed goblin.

Gel'talot heard the words, "It's been fun!" screamed into his ears with mad fury, shocked at the unabated ferocity T'shuva possessed. Who throws their life away so recklessly?!

It was by sheer luck that Gel'talot had caught T'shuva's strike with his bow, straining to hold the kris at bay mere inches from his skin with the wooden bow braced against the scaly wrist of the ritualist. He could feel the hot breath, and heavier mass of his opponent oppressively pushing him backwards, off-balance, into the pit. The root that had secured the archer was beginning to give and he could feel himself slipping backwards, unable to stand against the lizardman.

With one last effort, Gel'talot pushed back and up, forcing himself down, his left foot coming up against the scaly body, and he tumbled backwards, carrying the lizardman up and over, sending him plunging headfirst into the pit. And then the sandy ground gave way beneath the goblin and he felt himself slipping backwards into the pit as well. The root had slipped open, releasing its hold.

On his back, the goblin tried to crunch himself up, but only slid further, gravity carrying him the rest of the way. His eyes wide, his heart racing, he realized now that he would join T'shuva's fate it seemed as at last he slipped free of the edge and plunged backwards down into the darkness, no root to save him this time. With his bow gripped in his left hand, he twisted around, falling towards the sheer edge, plummeting down before suddenly stopping with a painful jerk of his wrist.

The sides had not been smooth and now he dangled again, once more, blood seeping from his left wrist that now throbbed with pain. His bow... his trusty bow, had caught upon a small rock jutting from the side, his left hand nearly broken at the angle it was trapped in between the string and the other end. Gel'talot dangled once more, wincing, trying to pull himself up perhaps, but, feeling the bow slip an inch, he stopped and just hung there. The bow literally held him on less than two inches of stone. Heart pounding, adrenaline pumping through his veins, he glanced around nervously, wondering if it wouldn't be better to just accept his fate. Looking up at the rim of the pit and the bright light beyond, he dearly wished somehow he could find a way back up there.

Feeling the rock wall, he very, very slowly and gently felt with his feet and right hand for anything he could grab onto, or perhaps steady himself, his toes searching for a foothold in the cliff-face. The claws on his right hand dug in, and locked around a groove, his toes gingerly doing the same. He could at least stop, and breathe here for a moment...

Kiki
05-01-2015, 04:50 AM
** GM POST **

Each opponent has reached their five-post limit. The battle is over and the scores will be tallied up soon. Please check back for an update.

Kiki
05-02-2015, 12:27 AM
** GM POST **


The winner is ~N~.

Note: From what I had read and derived, both combatants had solid character development and understanding of abilities, flow of the story with GM guidance, and conventions with battle interactions. The determining factors, because you both did so well on the above listed, relied on the control of the fight that you engaged in, and length of post and detailing.

StanCold's Total Score: 22
Note: There were a number of posts that seemed a bit too short, a bit lacking in detail, and as a result, I was left feeling a little shortchanged as to what the character's motivation was. However, I truly loved what details you did provide, and the solid portrayal of the Ritualist in combat with his skill set and abilities.

~N~'s Total Score: 25
Note: I was able to clearly understand what was happening inwardly for your character, with the thinking process and battle rationale. I grew concerned that a number of times you edged toward god-modding, but I appreciated the versatility your character took on with the changing environment.

This was a close battle and as such, hard to judge. I congratulate you for your efforts and ability to write within the context of a changing environment and strong abilities of both in the art of Battle RPing! (The commentary between both opponents was also quite amusing and engaging for me to read.) C: