Round One [Inquisitor-vs-Conquistador]-Judge G

ROUND ONE: Forest Inferno
Inquisitor-VS-Conquistador
Judge : G

https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca88...LU19_lD854-L-o

An acrid smell fills the air, burning the nostrils of those who inhale it. The canopy of the trees above blocks out the sky, but even were it clear, the moon and stars would be invisible above the haze of smoke that billows up from between the endless woods. A flickering, orange glow reflects from this smokey backdrop, the light more fierce and bright as the eyes travel down.

The woods are ablaze.

Mercifully, the clearing in which you stand has not yet been reached by the flames, but you can see them, all around; licking the trunks of the trees that surround you, the forest growing thicker and thicker in the distance. As the tongues of orange fire creep slowly toward you, you can feel the heat that proceeds them. For now, only enough to dry your mouth and send beads of sweat down your brow, further impairing vision already stung by the smoke; but soon, you know, the temperature will rise, and as the fire nears this place will become an inferno.

The wind howls; the fire roars. The hot air burns your throat and lungs with every breath. The flickering flames provide your only means of seeing the roots and branches around you; and your opponent. If you linger here too long; if you hold back from tearing a victory from your opponents throat, both of you may just meet your painful, fiery end here.

The battlefield is set. Now you must fight.

---

You have 5 posts per person and 72 hours to respond between posts.
G will post after 2 posts and you must wait for those posts.
By the flip of a coin, Inquisitor will go first.

*

Spoiler: Rune I 

I’m hiding this until I can make sure it’s an okay size. It’s difficult formatting on a phone.

https://i.imgur.com/3rqJ4PF.jpg

*

Kindra Asa of the Ice Men did not know how many of her fellow tribesman were already dead.

Eitt hundruð? Eða tugi hundruða?

Nor did she wish to know.

Ruminating on the cruelties of this mortal world was just too devastating, too paralysing; particularly when in the midst of running for your very own life. Right now, all that Kindra had the mental capacity to do was focus on placing one foot in front of the other, scythe still in hand, having no other choice but to retreat into the rageful clutches of the burning forest.

Brátt mun ég vakna, Kindra’s despondent mind thought in a wave of disillusion, subconsciously grasping at straws to comfort herself, wanting to believe that this was all a mere dream.

Alas, it was not.

Unwelcome beads of sweat reminded the Ice Woman that this was indeed her new reality. She would never wake up beside her lover, ever again. He was gone, she knew. He had paid for her escape into the forest with his own life. In the midst of her shock, the flames continued to belch on, seemingly insatiable, as a cruel easterly wind lead the inferno towards the old growth conifers that had still thrived within this rugged terrain.

...eða fljótlega mun ég taka þátt í þeim.

Was this the hellish end that senile elders had always warned about? The great doom that had been feared since the days of old? Ancient rune stones scattered throughout their lands, carved with apocalyptic tomes, prophesied of The Red Death—or, as pronounced in the Kindra’s native tongue, The Rauður Dauða. There was to be a great purging, the stones warned, with pillars of red fire and billows of black smoke that sought to choke the life breath out of man, woman, and child.

Even so, before this night, Kindra would have dismissed the archaic message from the stones as little more than myth, with a smile on her face. But now, here she was, no longer laughing. She was fighting for fresh air, overwhelmed by intense heat, and running aimlessly alone like some frightened animal—as glowing bits of ash fell around her as gentle as snowflakes.

The once-proud Inquisitor had always felt prepared to challenge the guilty of her own kind, but how could she defend herself against a race of beings that the runes called helvítis eldur?

*

eitt hundruð? eða tugi hundruða?
one hundred? or tens of hundreds?

brátt mun ég vakna
soon i will wake

eða fljótlega mun ég taka þátt í þeim
or soon i will join them

the rauður dauða
the red death

helvítis eldur
hell fire

*

If there was one thing Antenor Ramirez hated more than anything... it was cold weather. He had plenty of hatred for the savage tribes of primitive savages that he tended to conquer and subjugate, of course... there barbarous religion which practiced human sacrifice was one of the more abhorrent things he had encountered. Repugnant as they were, however, there was no need to eradicate such savages... their labor could indeed be put to good use... on one of his plantations, earning him a fortune in New World silver.

However, the savage tribes of the New World at least had the decency to reside in the jungle, where the weather was a comfortably hot temperature. The cold weather of the Frozen North, however, did not favor the naga's own cold-blooded physiology... and so, rather than attempting to fight at a fraction of his potential, the logical solution was to set the forest ablaze, so that the heat from the flames would provide him with the energy he needed to conquer his opponent completely.

Even now, he could see the pale hair of the inquisitor fluttering as she ran for her life through the inferno that was rapidly engulfing the forest. Her hair marked her as a member of one of the many tribes of the Frozen North... no doubt used to the icy climates that he himself hated so much. However, he knew of human physiology from his many years of fighting their kind... the same heat that invigorated his cold blood would quickly cause sweat and fatigue in the warm-bloods, particularly those who were unused to fighting in such heat. And so, the advantage was his.

Pressing his advantage, he quickly slithered through the burning forest, approaching the human not from the predictable front or rear, but slightly behind and to the side... just out of her peripheral vision. Moving silently as he could, he allowed the crackling of flames and the torrent of hot winds, rising from the flames due to convection, to muffle his movements.

Then he coiled up his body to gather power before lunging forth from the flames, delivering a powerful thrust with his halberd, lighting fast in the speed of the strike, and with deadly, armor piercing force. It was a technique he had perfected over the course of many conquests, and it usually worked... though he knew this opponent would be more of a challenge than most he had faced, and so he was already calculating how to press his advantage in order to win this fight as quickly as possible.

[ooc: @Holeypaladin; @Leanna; apologies for the delay with this.]

While the fight rages on, the flames creep ever closer; and in the blink of an eye, it seems, they are upon you; clawing at the trunks that mark the edge of your clearing. The smoke is thicker now, and inhibits your vision still further; drawing breath has become laborious and you can feel a murky darkness at the edges of your vision - the brain beginning to protest at the lack of oxygen. From beyond the ring of flames, there comes an anguished roar. Then a beast stampedes into the light; a hulking, huge brown bear, its' fur singed and scalded, its' maw stretched wide and angry with the pain. Its' eyes are wild, enraged; and unable to take out its' fury on the thing which caused it this agony, it turns to the two easier targets it sees before it now. Bellowing its' anger, the bear attacks, charging forwards to swipe at whomever it can reach. You can see the beast has been driven mad with pain; it will continue to attack until it is put out of its' misery.

*

Spoiler: Rune II 

https://i.imgur.com/6moHPsi.jpg

*

As Kindra was forced further into the flames, the Naga showed himself to be as relentless as he was swift. Yet despite such desperate pursuit, the Ice Woman remained wary of her surroundings—dodging a protruding root here and a sunken gully there—as she utilised her higher knowledge of the forest to keep from fumbling on its rugged terrain. Nevertheless, the heat was oppressive, leaving Kendra unable to decipher what was more torturous: the inhalation of poisonous hot air, or the intense thirst that now violently scratched at her throat.

Whatever the case, she could not go on like this perpetually, she knew. Her longing for water was on the cusp of becoming urgent; but still, Kindra adamantly refused to risk slowing her pace so that she could untie the flask that tossed furiously at her hip. If she sacrificed her footing, even for a moment, she would sacrifice her bearing and place herself within comfortable range of the serpent. For this beast was unlike any other foe she had ever encountered; not only were his kind every bit as merciless as the oral legends told, but the Icelander was astonished by how he seemed renewed by the energy of the inferno.

Hvaða fífl erum við, Kindra could not help but grieve as the harrowing knowledge of how ill-prepared her people had been in defending themselves began to truly sink in. Her people had long known about the scourge of the fire serpents, but never truly feared their kind. Unlike the soft-natured sunfolk, they relied on rugged lands to be their shield, comforted by the knowledge that the cold-blooded race favoured more pleasant landscapes. Undesirability was the security of the hardy icefolk, who considered themselves as deeply rooted in this ancient land as the trees themselves.

Hvað er það sem þú vilt hafa af okkur?

Her people held little wealth in gold as well, so what was there to conquer? Kindra scoured her mind for the answer even as her bootied feet landed amongst a pile of dried twigs in the underbrush, cracking the sprigs as easily as brittle bone, they too destined to become little more than fuel for the deluge. Something deep in the pit of her stomach—an almost guttural instinct—caused her to glance back over her shoulder as she still pondered… Hvað viltu af mér?

In a prompt response to this silent plea, the Naga thrust his foreign-looking halberd with a powerful throw, the blade’s metal sheen reflecting the lustre of the fire as it narrowed in. It was that gleam that warned Kindra of the attack in the knick of time, causing her to veer slightly to the left—a move that saved her life—and that caused the halberd blade to instead strike the the trunk of one particularly young spruce, that miraculously had not yet been licked up by the flames.

Fear gave way to fury as Kindra’s eyes burned with contempt for the snake that hoped to snuff out her life’s breath. Using that same spruce as a rear shield, Kindra scanned the surrounding shadows with an icy blue gaze, while slowly raising her scythe above her fair head… waiting. What she waited for, she did not know; but the Inquisitor waited nonetheless, hoping that the Conqueror would quickly betray his location.

As fate would have it, however, it was a very different creature that had revealed itself first. A great she-bear charged into a small clearing, putting on full display a disturbing patchwork of first, second, and third degree burns that covered its poor hide. A single agonised roar told Kindra that when it came to an angry bear, the best mode of survival was not to fight or flight…

So she froze.

Scythe still held in the air, Kindra remained completely motionless, hoping to deflect its attention from her by appearing non-threatening. For the injured animal was as angry as it was terrified, she could see, and perhaps it would pass her by… to release the brunt of its aggression onto the Naga.

Líta til bjarnarins, the Inquisitor drew from the memories of childhood, remembering the words that were ingrained into her psyche long ago. Polaris mun leiða þig norður, Litla Snjókorn, alltaf norður... það er tákn verndar.

*

haða fífl erum við
we are fools

hvað er það sem þú vilt hafa af okkur?
what is it they want of us?

hvað viltu af mér?
what does he want of me?

líta til bjarnarins...
look to the bear...

polaris mun leiða þig norður, litla snjókorn, alltaf norður
polaris will lead you north, little snowflake, always north

...það er tákn verndar.
...the bear is your protection.

*

Though the heat from the flames invigorated the cold-blooded serpent man and gave him strength and speed in excess of human limits, he knew that such high performance would have an equal backlash once the fight was concluded. Already he had a desire to take a refreshing dip in a lake or river, though he knew the cold water of the frozen north would not be suitable for such, having the exact opposite effect on his physiology as the heat from the flames did.

Surprisingly, the human managed to notice him at the last moment, just in time to avoid what should have been a decisive surprise attack. As it instead struck a tree, the blade of his pole arm severed a chunk of spruce bark, though the weapon suffered no damage from the impact due to its high quality craftsmanship. Expecting his opponent to strike back against him in retaliation, the naga once again vanished into the forest... as the attack never came.

During his initial strike against the northern barbarian, brief though it was, Antenor had noted two things. The first was that the woman had an uncanny, almost supernatural perception of her surrounding environment... otherwise she'd have never seen the attack coming, and the duel, if one could call it such, would have been over before it started. Secondly, her style of combat was extremely defensive in nature. Though her weapon was a pole arm, similar yet different than his own, her combat stance was one of defense and counter-strike rather than aggressive attack.

However, in his two mortal lifetimes of combat experience, the conquistador had come to realize that without exception, humans tended to think in two dimensions... combat on the ground against enemies where were also grounded, or fighting on the surface of a body of water. He had taken taken many a tribal war canoe by surprise by attacking from beneath the surface of the water before, and an even greater through surprise attack from above. The human woman was now positioning her back against the tree to defend herself... a sound plan, perhaps, against an opponent who was also on the ground. Typical two dimensional combat tactics.

However, the same tree that she used for cover could instead be used against her to even greater effect. Slithering up the trunk of a nearby tree with the serpentine grace that no human could match, the naga then crawled across the branches to the spruce that still guarded his prey's back. Looking down on her from above, he spotted the bear... a brown beast quite similar to one of the dominant predators in the much warmer climate which he had conquered and set up a colony. The way she froze might very well have been the proper response to the animal, normally... yet this one was enraged, and so he doubted it would cease its aggression so easily. Perhaps she was hoping that the bear would attack him instead... but as he had now climbed the trunk of the tree, the beast would need to go through the woman to get to the same trunk and climb as well.

He knew it was only a matter of time before his tree caught fire, however, and quickly calculated his next move. Two ideas immediately came to mind... the first being to drop down on the bear and kill it instantly with an attack from above, eliminating the third party in order to engage in an honorable, one on one duel with his opponent. Though he had plenty of experience with honorable duels growing up... battlefield experience had taught him that honorable combat was rarely tactically sound. His attack could potentially miss its mark, and anything other than a lethal strike would only serve to enrage the bear further. Additionally, there was a chance the woman could capitalize on the brief moment in which his halberd was embedded in the beast's skull, and bring her own war scythe down on him. And so, it was better to use the bear against the woman, rather than simply killing it.

The second idea that came to mind was to simply drop down on the woman from above, halberd first. While highly doubted the woman's superhuman perception would extend into three dimensions, there was the very real likelihood that the bear would instantly turn its fury on him. The woman's high guard stance provided some measure of protection to attacks from above, albeit (most likely) unwittingly.

As a burning tree fell onto the forest floor not far from him, and one of the branches of his own spruce caught fire, the naga came to a third possibility. Branches of trees were falling all around him due to the flames... for another to fall would be no different. He still held the element of surprise to his advantage, along with the distraction provided by the unexpected arrival of the forest beast. An attack from above which did not reveal his location could still preserve his options... and with any luck, the bear would do his job for him as well.

Breaking off the branch of his tree that had caught fire, the naga exposed it to a nearby flame, igniting it further until it was engulfed in flames. Then, he tossed it down towards the forest floor... and directly onto the head of the pale-haired woman, her back to the very tree from which the branch had originated. This simple attack should be perceived as simple another of the many trees and branches that were already falling all around the burning forest... certainly nothing to draw her attention to the source. And even if it did draw her attention away... a momentary glance away from the bear would be all the distraction necessary to let the beast take care of the rest. And if it didn't light her pale head on fire as intended, the branch should at least serve to ignore the scythe held over it, the wood of the weapon's shaft already dry and hot from the surrounding heat.

As he watched the burning branch fall in the direction of the inquisitor, the naga was already calculating his next attack based on the resulting effect of this flaming piece of wood on its target...

*

Spoiler: Rune III 

https://i.imgur.com/YAY2Ujv.jpg

*

Little Snowflake.

This was the pet name given to Kindra by her fisherman father on the day that she was born; it being the first term of endearment for his infant daughter who, against all odds, had survived a traumatising premature delivery. Cottony tufts of exceptionally white hair had been the defining feature of the newborn child who fit comfortably within his two hands; this the crown that she wore during her first harrowing fight for survival.

Even now, the white woman’s mane looked beautiful as it lightly fluttered amidst the chaos, giving Kindra an almost stately demeanor while her intense gaze locked on to what had become the more immediate threat—the maternal bear. To her own misfortune, the hostile animal did not turn aside from its wanton frenzy as she had initially hoped, but instead honed in on her as its primary target. Frantically, Kindra took note of the dire situation, realising that she must strike down the bear with her scythe… and quickly.

As for the Naga, that ghostly æti was still at large, taunting her from amongst smoke and shadow—a most baffling foe. Even the recollection of that halberd nearly pinning her caused a surge of adrenaline to fill Kindra’s veins, drowning out her fear with furor, and fueling the Inquisitor's hatred for the Conqueror with every passing heart beat.

As the bear drew ever closer, Kindra steadied her stance and readied her scythe, preparing to deliver the coups de grâce to the already-injured animal with a decisive strike to the gullet. Og þá mun ég fara norður, she inwardly repeated to herself, trying to remain calm, collected. However, most unexpectedly, an inflamed branch fell from the heavens and razed her crown—and stymied her killshot—causing her blade to slice the bear’s shoulder instead of its throat.

Kindra was therefore unable to avoid the upcoming claw attack; the force of which tore through roughspun fabric and soft flesh alike, pushing the woman into a momentary tailspin of shock and pain as she recoiled away with fresh lacerations. The sulfurous odour of burnt hair began to mingle with the rancid smell of the smoke, however, which quickly brought Kindra back to reality as she realised that her mane was also in the midst of catching fire.

Fortunately for her, the bear was equally caught off-guard by the fall of the burning branch, which in turn lessened the impact of the animal’s charge due to the surprise nature of the fire attack. And while nothing could fully stop the momentum of the formidable creature or its paw, a newly-instilled fear of fire did give the burned bear pause, convincing the it to veer back from the Ice Woman and the torch she was now caught up in.

Meanwhile, Kindra was able to utilise this brief moment of time to untangle herself and fling the branch away with an uncanny sort of violence—directly hitting the bear. Infuriated, the animal reared its body from the burning thing and defensively prepared to take its second charge. Slicing the flask from her hip, the Ice Woman furiously poured the entirety of its contents over her singed head and garments, before turning to stand her ground with her war scythe.

Urgency once again thwarted Kindra’s ability to properly execute a neck slash upon the approaching she-bear. But still, the Inquisitor was able to administer a puncture wound in between two of its ribs, causing the thing to bellow out in agony and turn its greater size to force Kindra to the ground, face first. There, the woman was bestowed with a fierce clawing to the back, which further ripped her garments, and left bloody strips of flesh hanging from between her shoulder blades.

Nearing the brink of abandoned hope, Kindra had no choice but to reach down into the fire of her soul, digging deep to cling on to the only thing that she had left—her sheer will to live. Pulling from this inner well gave the Inquisitor the fortitude to move past the throbbing pain and keep fighting; to again reach for her war scythe with a white-knuckled grip to avoid an absolute mauling. For the bear was on the verge of another attack, she could see... but this time, the thrice-wounded mother bear took a moment to wallow in misery herself as her puncture wound continued to bleed out, profusely.

Consequently, Kindra was afforded a few more precious seconds to prepare one final strik—while still keeping her mind on the Conqueror, wondering if he was still watching her. If he was, what a sight she must be to his beady eyes. But at least he would see that she was still standing, passionately intent on putting her scythe to deadly use—which she did in full display of the Naga as the bear finally returned for one last offensive.

It was then, with one quick twist of her body and a side-swipe, that the Inquisitor deeply sliced the throat of the bear, effectively stopping the animal in its tracks. As the bear succumbed at her feet, Kindra crouched down behind the corpse, now stripped of all feminine pride as sweat dripped down her body, the moisture mixing with blood that had already began to turn viscous due to the oppressive heat. Half of the Ice Woman’s fair hair had also been destroyed entirely, as well; leaving a crown that was a pale comparison of its former glory.

But she was still here… breathing... alive…

And then, in the blink of an eye, Kendra abandoned her bera skjöld and once more began to run, her veins again pumping with a surge of adrenaline. But this time, she was running for a very different reason. No longer would the Inquisitor flee from the Conqueror in fear and despair—but with purpose—and a focus unlike anything she had ever experienced in her life.

She must find a clearing free of fuel for the fire, she knew. She must lead the Naga to the river—first, to drink—but also to finally escape from the smoke, ash, and hell of it all. For to continue running in fear for the safety of the north was folly, Kindra now knew. This Naga would never give up the chase. He would follow her until she could no longer run… and to what end? And even if she did make it, and avoided him…why was she leading him to where Polaris led?

NORTH.

Mount Vití.

The largest volcanic mount in the Icelandic Ring of Fire.

Here, surrounding this fiery giant, are thousands of geysers and hot springs—active fields of geothermal energy, all hidden beneath the northernmost lands of the Icefolk. Sacred to the northerners, these dynamic landscapes have been heavily guarded by Kindra’s people… and a secret for generations.

Also nestled beside this great site are the Vatnajökull] Ice Caves—great caverns of old filled with glacial formations—which has also historically been used as a haven for shelter, safety, refuge...

As Kindra made her final approach towards the bank of the Þjórsá river, she tried to forget her pain as she jumped knee deep into the icy waters, greedily scooping up handfuls to quench her thirst as her gaze surveyed the treeline.

From this place, away from the billows of thick smoke, the Inquisitor now had a clear view of the surrounding environment—and even bits of the sky—where she could finally find the faint twinkle of Polaris. And oh, how she ached to follow it. But if this sníkjudýr would not abandon his pursuit, how could she keep leading him to such a valuable place, and… straight towards the other survivors?

Nei. Ég verð að drepa hann, eða deyja…

So the Inquisitor waited… and waited... and waited... as a deep and feral hatred for the Naga intensified to unholy levels. How she wished to taunt him in her own tongue, spouting slurs and curses directly to his face.
Even if he could not understand her, he would likely recognise her tone of mockery and defiance.

For what right did he have to come here? Were these not her lands, fertilised by the blood and bone of her own kin?

*

æti
maggot

og þá mun ég fara norður
and then i go north

bera skjöld
bear shield

sníkjudýr
parasite

nei
no

eg verð að drepa hann, eða deyja
i have to kill him, or die

*

"Nunca vayas a la batalla sin casco."

It was one of the first lessons the Conquistador had ever been taught, back when he was training with the greatest sword masters Hispania had to offer. Never go into battle without a helmet. It was, by far, the most important piece of armor any soldier or general could wear. A foot soldier might be completely without armor anywhere else, yet still wear a helmet to cover the most vital part of his body. Second after the helmet was chest and torso protection, followed by limb protection... though without any legs and requiring full motion of his snake-like lower body, Antenor Ramirez was forced to go without any such armor for his lower body.

Yet he still wore protection on his head... a specially designed Conquistador helmet, custom fit to his naga head, along with a cuirass to cover his torso. In her haste to escape, his opponent had clearly forgotten the most vital piece of armor... and it cost her that pretty mane of pale hair of hers. It looked as if the bear would finish her as a result of this injury, though it seemed the fire had an unfortunate side effect of causing the beast to falter... and through some miraculous stroke of luck, the woman was able to put the creature down... though her injuries were clearly apparent.

It was at this moment where it would have been perfect for the naga to strike... to take down his opponent in her distraction. However, he faced a stroke of misfortune himself, as the branches of his tree ignited in flames, much like the surrounding forest. He had to cancel his attack in order to seek safety at ground level... which gave the woman the head start she needed in order to escape... at least, for now.

Still energized from the heat of the flames, the naga gave persuit through black flames, avoiding the fall of burning branches and trees alike, following the silhouette of the human. It was clear that she would rather flee than fight... something he was used to, in fact, as the tribal savages he had conquered in the past often used such tactics... either when routed from battle, or a feigned route when utilizing guerrilla tactics.

He was not at home in this forest, and every tree looked like every other. The smoke clouded the sky, so the stars could not be seen. No form of navigation was possible... the only thing he had to work with being the shadowy form of his target as she hurried to escape him. Perhaps he could have caught up to her... but it seemed that it wasn't necessary, as it was only a matter of time before she collapsed form fatigue and the weight of her injuries.

It must have been a stroke of pure, miraculous luck that she managed to find a river... as even a native to this forest should find it impossible to navigate in these conditions. Despite the fact that his prey had met with nearly divine luck three times in a row... the naga figured she could not continue to meet with good fortune forever, and eventually the pendulum of fate would swing the opposite direction.

Though he normally would have eagerly fought in the water, where he had a clear advantage over humans... the naga also knew that the heat of the forest fire would not be enough to warm up the icy river, and to jump into the water would essentially paralyze his cold blooded body. He had no other option than to find a way across, without swimming. The forest inferno had yet to completely engulf the opposite bank of the river, but his own bank would soon be completely uninhabitable due to the inferno.

He knew that every moment the woman spent in the water would work against her... as even warm bloods like herself would freeze to death in such conditions. As she made her way into the river, Antenor made his way upstream until he found what he was looking for... a number of tree trunks, fallen due to the flames, their flamed quenched upon impact with the freezing water. Making his way across the trunks, he managed to make it to the opposite bank of the river, showing surprising agility and timing as he did so.

He then circled back downstream to where he had seen the woman enter the river. This new bank of the river had yet to become completely engulfed in flames... yet enough of the trees had caught fire that he could seek comfort near them. Though the barbarian woman was waiting in the water, he knew she would eventually have no other choice than to make her way out of the water towards his position, as returning to the burning forest would cause her to suffocate or burn to death, and remaining in the water would cause her to freeze to death.

And so, he prepared an ambush, slithering up a nearby tree into the cover of the branches and leaves. There was little threat of this particular tree catching fire... and the moment she came ashore, he would be striking. Not with a burning branch this time... but with an attack from above, delivering the deadly tip of his halberd straight into the top of that head of hers, which she had neglected to cover with the most essential piece of armor. It would be a clean, easy kill... and with her two-dimensional thinking, it would take another miraculous stroke of luck for her to survive.

As the battle rages on, the flames have been creeping ever closer. What was a prickling irritation is now thick, aching fog drawn in with each breath; each gasp of air a labour for life. Sweat beads on your brow, and the fire crackles hungry in your ears. The few trees scattered at the edge of the clearing are aflame; the heat of them stings your skin. Between you, a flaming branch falls with a crash, sparks thrown wildly from it as it meets the earth. Now another branch falls, and another; leaving hot coals scattered on the ground. Time is drawing short; if you want to make it out alive.

Ooc: again, apologies for the belated post. One post left each guys, thanks! @Leanna; @Holeypaladin;

Sadly because of a withdraw, this battle cannot be judged.

Holeypaladin (Conquistador) moves on to the next round