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

[StanCold]

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~]

This is the End
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"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]

** 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]

** 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.)