RULES OF COMBAT:

1. 10 post each limit, if you wish to have this amount reduced, get in touch with me.

2. Each player is allowed to make one introductary post.

3. Mark which number post you posted at the end of your posts.

4. Deathblows allowed, play to win, play for keeps, whatever. But the character will be regenerated after the fight.

5. YOU KNOW WHAT THE JUDGES WANT, read their screenings, no whining because of the judges decisision, you know what they are looking for in each fight.

6. Judges shall give their scores out of 10, highest totaled player wins.

7. Every character that's not participating in battle may be observing the match and may post whatever they like IN CHARACTER during fights as long as they do not interfear with the combat.

8. There is an audience of bumbling idiots, sure what the hell.

9. I DO NOT want matches taking more than a week to finish, I will put on more than 1 at a time if need be. Which I am, 2 at a time for now.
-------

Arena decided by Brian: Desert Arena, completly open ended, barron desert field.

Winner of coin Toss: James, chooses himself to post first

Desert. Finely-grained sand strecthed before him in fantastic swirls, dunes, and peaks. Trails were left wherever a swirling wind decided to lift the sand and deposit it elsewhere. Visibility extended for several miles, though there was nothing to see; no wildlife, no vegetation; nothing could possibly exist within the arid landscape. The red sun setting in the west appeared distorted from the heat rising through the evening sky; and the sky itself was a dazzling display of auroral pigments, shaded in areas by coulds lined with gold.

Of course, T`qual could have cared less of the supposed beauty of the area.

He stared at the back of his hand to see his pale skin drying from the sheer heat of the air. As a Lamian, the sun was not his enemy, and it could not harm him; it was his victims, those afflicted with what many call vampirism, that became enemies of the dawn, for they solely served the night. While it was still quite tempid, the approaching dusk promised freezing temperatures throughout the night. The fight could not last long, but . . . the fight . . . .

None could ever tell of T`qual's true emotions, for he made special care of this. He made special care to never expose his fear. He feared because he no longer knew why he fought; the dead would not remain as such, sustained injuries were repaired, the physics of his world did not apply. His eyes reflected none of his inner soliloquy: Why did he fight? What purpose did this violence serve? Perhaps, was this all some type of demented amusement to a being of great omnipotence and power? While the concept did disturb T`qual, the thought that there might be a force greater than his own lord intrigued him. And as for his lord, Miaylsma refused to communicate with him, for T`qual had yet to endure the full extent of his punishment. Evidently, being left for dead in a pool of his own blood, blood extracted from every pore and orifice of his body, was simply not enough. But this did not matter; it was infact in his favor, for Miaylsma's ignorance of T`qual's thoughts allowed ample room for the seed of rebellion to take root. Miyalsma was his master, nothing more; T`qual was merely a crutch for his paranoia, weakness, and incompetence . . . .

The air had become significantly cooler before he noticed the approach of his next opponent, one said to possess mastery over flame. He appeared poised for battle, so T`qual was left with little recourse other than to fight for his survival, his life.

How ironic.

[Post-1]

Description reminder: Forge is very tall, and muscular. He wears a brown hooded trenchcoat with a flame pattern surrounding the bottom. Beneath the trench coat, he wears a black leather shirt with protective red padding covering his abdoman. His pants are brown with a flame design near the bottom, identical to his coat. He also has black boots, and a black leather belt. He wears a metal protective face mask that covers the lower portion of his face beneath his eyes. In a fight, he wears a pair of gloves, each with three pointed spikes attatched at the knuckles. The spikes are about three quarters of a foot long.

***************
Forge slowly opened his eyes. However, what he saw was not what one would have anticipated. He found himself hovering, surrounded by nothingness. He looked all around him, but could see nothing but blackness. It was as though he was swallowed by a dark void, enveloped in shadow. The atmosphere alone caused a cold sweat to trickle down his forehead. Forge had been in strange situations such as this before, but never had he felt fear because of them. Where ever he was, it felt much different than any place he had ever been. As a cold chill traveled down his spine, he actually shivered. He actually felt... cold. The arrogance that he had always shown now seemed non-existant.
"Wh-where am I? Somebody answer me!" Forge screamed at the blackness.
He waited helplessly for a response that he believed would never come. However, his expectations proved to be incorrect...

"Calm yourself Forge... You are safe..."
Forge's eyes widened in shock. He knew that voice. He knew it more than he could bare.
"No! You can't be here!"
Even as Forge spoke, a figure began to take shape in front of him. First his feet appeared, then his legs, and soon the too familiar being stood before Forge with his back turned. Forge could not believe his eyes. Quickly studying the blue dragon symbol etched onto the new figures back, all doubt was removed from his mind. It had been seven long years, but now he was finally staring at the man who had trained him. The man he had once called master. The man that had taken everything from him. After so much time, he and Raem were to meet once more in this darkened abyss.

Suddenly Raem spoke once more.
"I see you've been training hard since we last met. I'm impressed..."
"Shut up old man! I've only been training for one reason!"
"Ah yes. Your endless quest for revenge... It pains me to say this... But as you are now, you cannot hope to defeat me."
That arrogant look that Forge had become so accustomed to finally returned.
"Clearly you didn't see my last fight then."
"Oh I saw it." Raem replied. "You were sloppy and careless. Your arrogance alone almost cost you that match. You were fortunate enough to have Krieger as an opponent in the first match. However, from here on in, you cannot expect fate to be so generous..."
Forge clenched his fists. The cold chill was gone, and now he was filled with nothing but rage.
"I won the fight, and I'll win the next one! There is not a single man or woman in this forsaken tournament that can defeat me!"
Both Forge and Raem stood in silence for what seemed like an eternity. Finally Raem responded.
"Pride cometh before a fall, Forge..."
"What are you babbling about now?"
"Your arrogance can only hinder you. Unless you realize that, you cannot hope to win your next battle."
With that said, the figure of Raem slowly began to fade away. The figure that once resembled Forge's former mentor faded into the darkness, and dissapeared.
******************

When Forge awoke, he found himself surrounded by miles of barron sand. As the brisk wind blew, grains of sand floated through the air. The sun was setting in the distance, but the heat was still scorching. (Much to Forge's liking) As the seemingly unbearable heat swept over him, Forge felt strangely empowered. Just like in the volcano, the heat flowed through his body, filling him with energy and more than enough confidence to fight. As the sun reflected brightly off of his face mask and spiked gloves, Forge locked eyes with his opponent. The one called T'Qual.
"With this heat I feel stronger already. T'Qual won't be any danger."
The words of Raem quickly floated off with the wind.

[post 1]

The hot air breezed past T`qual, both that native to the environment and that of his opponent. If there was nothing more to fight for, he would fight simply to rid himself of the cocky arogance of his oppoent which bothered him so. Or more appropriately, he would not let his opponent's cocky arrogance outdo his. Frustration sweltered deep within the pools of his eyes, restrained from surfacing; only blind rage was allowed to break loose.

"I would caution you to be wary of overbearing confidence if it would not amuse me to see you freeze to death once the night sets in. That is to say, if you even survive that long. Now, have at you!!"

There wasn't any time to spare. The cry concluded with the soft pulse of his heavy footsteps pounding against the loosely pild sand below. The first few feet than landed faltered a bit under the slight shifting, but it only took mere seconds for him to readjust his stride and proceed downhill in a near gallop, accompanied by labored breaths. Upon nearing Forge, T`qual's boot lifted into position (along with a trail of sand) to deliver a blow to his foe's midsection. As his right foot rose, his left sank into the pile, anchoring his stance. If he could simply get Forge on the ground, it would be over quickly, and he would no longer have to abstain himself from the fear which welled up inside him.

[Post-2]

Finally, round two had officially begun, and T'Qual was making the first move. However something that his opponent said had caught Forge's interest. As T'Qual began his approach, Forge quickly glanced to the west. T'Qual was not just making idle conversation. The sun was setting fast. If the fight were to last long enough, the two would be fighting eachother guided only by the moonlight.

Though T'Qual's words of caution may have been insincere, they still held valid significance. Though it is common knowledge that deserts are inherently bestowed with intense heat, many remain ignorant to the second half of the truth. Most travelers fear the perils that the sun can bring upon an endless sea of sand, but neglect the dangers that nightfall brings. Forge could deal with most of these obstacles, but one could still pose as a major problem. Without the sun, the temperature would drop dramatically.

At the moment, the sweltering heat of the desert could only work in Forge's advantage, however daylight would not last much longer. He would have to work quickly.

T'Qual was gaining ground with each pounding step. The question was, what was he planning to do?
"You know, you're smarter than I thought..."
T'Qual was now just feet away, and preparing to launch a kick. He lifted his boot in the air to try and connect with Forge's midsection.
"...Pity, it doesn't make a damn bit of difference!"
Before T'Qual's attack could connect, Forge lifted his hands in front of him. Clenching his fists, he positioned the spikes at the ends of his gloves so that they crossed eachother, forming an X.

T'Quals boot crashed into Forge's makeshift shield with incredible power. The force alone was enough to push Forge back, feet sliding involuntarilly through the terrain, closing his eyes so as not to get sand in them. However, Forge was in no mood to play a defensive game. He had to go on the offensive while the sun was still supplying him with heat.

Pushing back against T'Quals foot, Forge's spikes began to scrape against one another. As they did so, the friction caused small sparks to emerge. Forge concentrated as hard as he could to amplify these sparks. In an instant, the sparks grew into dancing flames that surrounded his spikes. The flames had now become a giant X, mimicking the positioning of his spikes. With one swift motion, Forge pulled his arms outward and propelled the flames forward. Now T'Qual had to deal with an onslaught of fire at point blank range. The thought alone was enough to make Forge smile behind his mask.

[post 2]

The glint of sunlight against the steely spikes set in Forge's gloves; the sparks ignited when they clashed; the amplified flames that swelled from the mere embers; this was all T`qual could view from horrified eyes. The swelling mass of fire before him threatened his very existance and his body was perpetually versed towards it. And so, the fiery symbol did indeed engulf him: the flames licked the leather of his boots and leggings, denied the placation his exposed flesh would provide. His flesh did catch very easily, too, as his pale flesh was nearly incinerated in the intense heat.

The fire must not be allowed to spread any further, for the burns on his undead flesh would inhibit his movement greatly. The impact had not only forced Forge backwards but repeled T`qual, as the flaming figured collapsed to the sands below. Some sand was kicked up from the impact, but he needed more; more sand; enough to quell the fire. His left hand dug into the mounds of sand around him, shovelling handfulls onto the flesh exposed by the fire's wrath. His other hand padded upon each new handful of sand to ensure they were properly suffocated. And all the while he consumed himself by spouting a number of Grecerian expletives.

Propping himself up on his left (and unscaved) leg, he inspected his burns. The fire had managed to crawl up to his waist and were quite severe; being coated in sand and thrashed repeatedly did not bode well for them, either. Action had to be taken, for he was quite vulnerable in his condition. Glaring through the sunset, all T`qual could manage to see was the silhouette that was supposedly Forge; several small, blurred embers still lingered before his figure which blended almost seemlessly with the light surrounding him. Left palm obscuring his sight, a chant was muttered; from the center of his hands a pale green light grew in intensity, consuming what remained of his vision. With a final grunt the energy was projected forward: a spear of poison hurdled at what was hopefully his heart. This would not cause Forge's instantaneous death, but it would indeed be painful.

[Post-3]

As Forge watched his opponent with glee, he couldn't help but think back to his first match. Things had began similarly. Forge could still remember Krieger writhing in pain as burns began to cover several parts of his body. In both fights, he had managed to hit both of his opponents with fiery blows and knock them to the ground. Both fights had begun the same, and Forge was confident that the end result would also be the same.

Arrogant as always, Forge waited for his opponent to stand up. As T'qual did so, Forge could see that he was mumbling something under his breath. Forge tried to make out what it was he was saying, but simply couldn't understand the complex language. It was as if T'qual was speaking in tongues. His words definitely had purpose, but Forge could only guess at what that purpose was.

"Hey what the hell are you muttering over there?"
T'qual's intentions soon became apparant as a luminous green spear materialized in his hand. With a powerful jolt, the spear was launched toward him.
'Hah. What a fool. Krieger needed three attacks at once just to hit me, and this moron thinks he can hit me with an attack like this? Perhaps it was a waste of time to watch his first match...'

As he had done earlier, Forge crossed his spikes in order to form an X. As the spear drew closer, he positioned the alligned middle spikes in front of him. With only centimeters to gamble with, the spear collided with the center of the middle spikes.
'Heh. Stopped it.'
But in reallity, he was far from it. The force of the thrown spear continued to push against the spikes. Soon Forge's arms began shaking in an attempt to just keep the spear at bay. However, no amount of Forge's physical strength could have stopped it. After several seconds of battling with the sharpened weapon, the two spikes gave way to the spear, and shattered. Shocked by the failure of his shielding technique, Forge was unprepared to properly react. He could only move a little bit before the spear pierced his right shoulder.
"Gah!"

Forge staggered back in pain. Angrilly, he grabbed the spear tore it from his shoulder, and squeezed it until it burned to nothing but ash. Small drops of blood fell to the sand, only to be smothered by more sand.
"That does it..."

Raising both hands in the air, wincing as Forge summoned more heat from the air around him. soon a fireball ignited in his left hand. Next in his right.
"Now I'm going to-"
Suddenly Forge's vision blurred. The balls of fire quickly extinguished, and he fell to one knee.
"What- what did you do to me?"

[post 3]

It still pained T`qual to move his right leg. Not only were his burns severe, but the granules of sand that lined his corroded flesh caused great irritation and nflamation. Still, he could not attend to it, for he had to monitor the progress of his latest launched attack. The spear hurdled at Forge's chest, and in similar fashion to how T`qual's kick was repelled, another fiery symbol apparated from his hands and the spines of his gloves were prepared to block. The spear and the spikes collided and a struggle for supremacy began. Much to T`qual's delight, Forge's frail body could not stand to stave off the attack, and the venemous spear breached his defensed with the metallic shatter of several of the spikes on his gloves. T`qual's delight constrasted with Forge's frustration, and T`qual came to the peak of his elation when the bolt struck his victim in his right shoulder. It was swiftly destroyed thereafter, but it had already done its job.

Blood dribbled onto the sand below and was rapidly absorbed by the unquenchable earth. Forge tried to lanuch a counter-assault, but as soon as the fires appeared in his hand, they were dissolved into the air from which they were drawn. The poison was having its effect.

"Your blood is now tainted; I'd advise you to minimize your efforts, for at this very instant poison courses through your veins. It will not be very long before it reaches your heart and you suffer a very long and painful death ... but ... but I have yet to have my way with you. I wish to vanquish you for your lack of skill, not your ignorance."

With a sadistic grimace, another chant had begun. T`qual's right palm was thrust forward this time, and as his voice grew in intensity his eyes lost focus. A dull red aura grew around his palm, which instensified and created swirling designs and patterns. And his elation grew. The flow of blood which came from Forge's wound now defied gravity and spiraled in cocky patterns before dribbling into the sand, both composed of his tainted blood and all other blood. A profuse river of crimson began to pour forth, and as it did so the designs it formed became more mocking. And T`qual's elation still grew.

"With my aid, you may live for a while longer, pehaps ... that is, as long as you don't allow me to bleed you dry. Act fast, now!"

[Post-4]

Forge's folly was being taken full advantage of by T'qual. Poison was beginning to flow through his veins, and the wound in his right shoulder was exposed. His arm twitched in agony as T'qual manipulated the blood slowly pouring from it. He rattled off words of warning, but there was no amount of sincerity or concern behind them. He was simply taunting Forge, begging him to become more frustrated.

Trying hard to focus, Forge regained his balance and rose back to both feet. using the four spikes he had left on his gloves, he sliced a circle around the leather that was covering his wound. Blood was still pouring out in an unusual pattern. T'qual was merely toying with him at this point.
'I have to close that wound... I can't let him have any control over me...'
Forge then closed his eyes and concentrated. He gathered his energy, and focused it into a singular spike on his left glove. Soon the sharp piece of metal began to exude an orange aura. It was now consumed by heat. Slowly, he lifted his left hand up to his right shoulder and pressed the heated spike firmly down on the open wound. Forge's skin sizzled as the spike made contact. Though a painful action even to Forge, it was not the kind of pain that bothered him.

Soon, the wound was sealed. The flow of blood that had been escaping Forge's body was no more. However, he still felt something wrong within him. It was as though something was eating away at him.
'So he wasn't bluffing about the poison.'
"You say this poison will cause me to suffer a long and painful death do you?
Well I've never been one for long waits, so I'll just have to kill you first!"

With that said, Forge began to dart towards his opponent, his right arm slumped down slightly lower than his left. The poison was already affecting him, causing him to loose balance on a few steps, but he hobbled forward nonetheless. Before reaching him, Forge swooped his right foot forward to kick sand up at T'qual's eyes. Hoping for the sand to blind T'qual, or at least act as a distraction, Forge quickly followed it up with an underhook punch to the gut. With any luck, his remaining spikes would pierce the underbelly, and slice upwards from there.

[post 4]

T`qual couldn't help but snicker as the glowing hot metal was pressed against Forge's wound; searing his skin, burning, producing such a fould oder. Such mundane tactics had to be used to remedy his injuries, and yet much of the poison was still left in his circulation. Try as he might, all of the poison-carrying blood could not be removed from Forge's body; after all, he did indeed promise that he would be allowed to live a while longer, and draining his body of all its blood would spoil this bond of words. The poison left would not be imminently fatal, but indeed disorient, as it appeared to be doing.

Forge's staggered footsteps appeared quite humorous. However, this was a cover for a more sinister motive. A spray a sand pummeled the unsuspecting Lamian's face, a great deal entering his eyes. Augh! Sand, sand, esa sarrena ess'ar!*

Blinded, he habitually staggered backwards, rubbing at the coarse grains and only worsening the situation. His eyes would not open, leaving him defenseless against Forge's latest assault. Several sensations in quick sucession were felt: first, a sharp piercing, stabbing pain in his lower abdomen, one only achievable by the fabricated metals of mankind. The next was a blunt blow, a blow that forced the air from T`qual's lungs and created a depression against his lower torso. And as the steel claw dug deeper into his supple flesh, muscle, tissue, and sinew alike tore under the pressure. The one saving grade T`qual could rely on as a release from such mutilation was the flailing of his arms; in swift, grasping motions his hands grabbed for Forge's arms by following the supposed sources of the sensations he felt, those that pained him so. Pushing off with the last traces of strength left to him in his fading consiousness...

The soft cusion of loose sand his body collapsed upon only helped to preserve his state of unconsiousness. Sand flew in all directions, immediately drawing towards the deep wound of torn tissue and muscle on his lower abdomen. His innards were literally visible, to those that could see anyhow. The glisten of blood faded from the deep gash as his breathing slowed...

Ect Xect Zai'ril, Ect Xect Zai'ril, Ect Xect Zai'ril, Ect Xect Zai'ril, Ect Xect Zai'ril, Ect Xect Zai'ril, Ect Xect Zai'ril, Ect Xect Zai'ril...

"No ... No!" T`qual's limb body protested the monotonus droning in his mind only with its tongue as his head shifted restlessly.

Ect Xect Zai'ril, Ect Xect Zai'ril, Ect Xect Zai'ril, Ect Xect Zai'ril, Ect Xect Zai'ril, Ect Xect Zai'ril, Ect Xect Zai'ril, Ect Xect Zai'ril...

"No, you're not taking control of me! Those days are done; you are no longer my lord!!" His screams grew in volume and intensity as did the one of Miaylsma. However, the God's voice did not quake like that of his subject.

ECT XECT ZAI'RIL, ECT XECT ZAI'RIL, ECT XECT ZAI'RIL, ECT XECT ZAI'RIL, ECT XECT ZAI'RIL, ECT XECT ZAI'RIL, ECT XECT ZAI'RIL, ECT XECT ZAI'RIL...

"No!!"

* A "muddled" version of Grecerian, spoken by several mortals from the time period of his birth: means "that fucking sand."
[Post-5]

Forge's arm was thrust backwards before he could slice through T'qual's heart. The poison continued to pain him from within, but Forge was not concerned. He was too close to victory to let the poison bring him down so soon. Through bloodshot eyes, he could see the lamian lying on his back, muttering something to himself. It was as though he was speaking to a being that was not there. Forge did not understand, but it was of no consequence to him. T'qual was severely injured.
"This fight is mine. You won't be standing up after that attack..."
Forge watched with glee as blood continued to emerge from T'quals abdomen.
"I'm going to enjoy watching you bleed to death." He said with a maniacle laugh.
However, his laughter was soon halted by an almost haunting voice.
"Pride cometh before a fall..."

The words of his former mentor echoed in his mind. Forge's fists clenched upon hearing that voice. However, Forge quickly came to understand Raem's meaning. Poison still flowed through his veins. The sun was almost lost to the western sands. As things stood now, T'qual was still alive, meaning that the fight was not yet over. Forge could not afford to chance his victory on T'qual's endurance. He needed to finish the great lamian off as soon as possible.

Feeling weaker by the moment, Forge dropped to the sand and crossed his legs so that he could sit. His vision was still blurred, but that did not matter at the moment. He did not need eyesight for his next attack. Slowly, he clasped his hands together in front of his chest. Closing his eyes, Forge raised his index fingers and pointed them towards the sky, as if about to engage in some ritualistic activity. Gathering up a small amount of energy, a trail of embers emerged from the tips of his index fingers. The trail moved forward, making its way towards the fallen lamian. when the tiny flames came within a foot of T'qual's body, the trail split and surrounded him, forming a circle of embers.
"Now for the finishing touch."

No sooner had his words been spoken, Forge quickly slammed his hands down towards the sand. Upon contact, the small bits of fire erupted into towering flames. Finally, Forge opened his eyes abrubtly, cuing the massive ring of fire to close in. Soon, T'qual would be engulfed in the hell like flames of Forge's creation.

[post 5]

ECT XECT ZAI'RIL, ECT XECT ZAI'RIL, ECT XECT ZAI'RIL, ECT XECT ZAI'RIL, ECT XECT ZAI'RIL, ECT XECT ZAI'RIL, ECT XECT ZAI'RIL, ECT XECT ZAI'RIL...

"I am not yours to command! N-no longer!" T`qual's screams became fever-pitched; as one of the few functions still viable within his limp body, the erratic motions of his lips and jaw contrasted sharply. "You-y-you only waste your time with such igsin'ente* incantations! I tell you, you cannot control me!!"

Trivial incantations? Hardly. But T`qual had nothing to rely upon other than empty threats at this point. The truth was, Miyalsma could indeed control him, but T`qual did not want it; he did not desire it. His eyelids fluttered in erratic fashion, and his chest pulsed and heaved from his short, stifled breaths. The leather staps torn at his stomach hung limply to the side as did his arms. The chanting grew louder, louder, louder still and the Lamian's calls of protest weakened with each shrill cry. The crimson river flowing from his terminal wound intensified; at this rate, he would not survive. And yet the incantation continued.

ECT XECT ZAI'RIL, ECT XECT ZAI'RIL, ECT XECT ZAI'RIL, MEFAL...
TE...
DAI!

With that thunderous conclusion, T`qual's arms thrust into the air involuntarily, quavering and twitching with the pain his body was forced to endure. The fingers moved in intricate fashion, almost melodic, and in certain fashions nostalgic. Images of bone - skeletal arms, hands stripped of their human brawn, exposing the ivory whitness of death - constricting flesh, squeezing, crushing, suffocating life. Emotionless eyes gazing without a trace of dismay at their deeds. But--no, no. This was not the purpose he must assume. The arms sank back to their original position, and instead the left arms was thrust under his backside, lifting his torso with its leverage. The fingers then reacted; still attached to the back of his now-blood-sullied belt were the granite vials, still capped in the fashion they had been his last encounter with the competitors. A spray of sand, and his body lied flat on the ground again, with the vial before him in his grasp. The right hand snapped forward, ripped off the cap, and came to rest over his gaping gash. His eyes would still not open, but his lips softly mimmiced a familiar incantation...

Red: the glow surrounding T`qual's right palm. Red: the blood that continued to flow forth, now arching slightly and beginning to rise from its bearings. Red: the wall of flames that swelled at T`qual's feet, flared, and divided to encompass his body. The fires danced before him, and yet even now he could still not see them. So what he needed to do next would be mostly guesswork. His own blood rose higher and higher as the pantomime of his spell continued, so that a thin strand of liquid was all that entered the mouth of the vial. Slowly the now filled vial was raised towards his head so that he might ingest his own blood, but before he could he was disrptued by a sudden gust of wind that seemingly brewed from nowhere. A blast of dry air swept over the dunes and gradually became more consistent, dragging away particles from beneath T`qual's body and fanning the flickering flames around him.

And so, the sandstorm - a deluge of dust - beared down upon the combatants, the enourmous cloud blotting out the sky as it rampaged forward.

*Means: Insignificant

[Post-6]

The flames grew more intense as the lamian lay helpless on the rough sand. Victory was close. Forge could feel it. In just moments T`qual would be swallowed by the flames. Forge watched with pleasure as T`qual struggled desperately for survival, his arms thrust outward. All Forge could gather was that he must have been reaching out in false hopes for something, anything to rescue him from what would soon become an agonizing defeat.
"That's it, reach out. Beg for someone to take your hand. Beg for someone to save you from the pain. It won't make a bit of difference. Your fate is sealed!"
Just as Forge began to smile, he fealt a small gust of wind. Slowly the gust grew in force. Within seconds, the two combatants found themselves in the midst of a powerful sandstorm. The very air of the already barren landscape was being coated with sand. As the small grains were forced in every direction, Forge was suddenly struck with a piercing pain from within the pit of his stomach. His eyes quickly grew wide with fear.
"No! Not yet!"
The sleeping giant that was T`qual's poison had finally awoken. Intense pain surged through Forge's body, while the sand pounded against him. He had never fealt so weak in all of his life. As his energy continued to steadilly fade, so did the power of his flames. Through bloodshot eyes, Forge watched helplessly as the sand bore itself down upon his wall of fire. In just a few short instances, the flames were extinguished to nothingness.
"I... Can't... Lose..." Forge muttered through staggered breathes.
He knew that he could not survive for much longer under these conditions. The poison could take his life in just minutes, seconds even. Forge had no way of knowing. Slowly, he began to drag himself in T`qual's direction. Sand continued to beat down upon him.
Forge knew that there would be no firey finish. No ritualistic end to this battle. No climactic display of his power. Both warriors were on the verge of death. Forge would have to end it with the remaining spikes left on his gloves, and soon.
After a moment of crawling blindly through the swirling grains of sand, Forge found himself before the lamian.
"I... Can't... Lose..." He repeated to himself.
All Forge could hope was that the poison not kill him before he could finish T`qual off for good. Slowly, he raised one shaking arm above his head, pointing his spikes at T`qual's head.
"I CAN'T LOSE!"
With one swift motion he thrust his arm downward.

[post 6]

The harrowing winds thrashed T`qual's body and bombarded his delicate fleshy wounds. The veil of sand filling the air obscured his view to the point where he could barely distinguish his own arm before his eyes. Still, the vial rose into position, tilted ever so slightly, then stopped.

The vial froze in place, suspended in spite of the storm around him. Something was happening. His face was no longer still and without emotion; the features contorted and twisted, his brow furrowed and a slight grimace masked a deep-throated chuckle. Within his mind, a cackling laughter resonated. For a lack of better terminology, the combination of the strain he endured fighting for posession of his mind, the excrutiating pain his body was constantly in, and the sheer volume of blood his body had lost seemed to have spurned a type of dementia. T`qual's eyes slowly shut, closing him off from the waking world.

The instant the blood had stopped in its path, Miaylsma became flabbergasted and infuriated by the current turn of events.

Why have you stopped, dammit?! Continue, continue!

T`qual remained still. He seemed quite content with himself.

What is--

"Hah, ha ha ha hah!" This raving cackle resonated though T`quals mind, drowning out the queries of his odious master. The hysterics continued for some time, and his obvious contenture radiated in his grimace.

He knew he would die, so he embraced it.

He embraced the metal spine of Forge's, which hovered above his head just out of view.

He swelled with a disturbed anticipation as the arcing path drew the spikes even closer, brought them down with a persecuting force.

He found a final relief in the staggering pain, the methodic caving of his skull at first puncture, and a conclusive loss of all sensation.

And T`qual did not open his eyes to the waking world.

[Post-7]

It was over...

Forge remained crouched over the body of T`qual, never removing the spikes from the skull of his fallen opponent.
Through all of his confidence, all his arrogant remarks, somewhere within himself he still doubted his abilities.
Staring at the bloodied head of the lamian warrior, Forge did not feel the joys of victory, nor did he feel the pains of remorse. All he felt was surprise. The battle was over, and he was still alive. It took several minutes before Forge was able to grasp the reallity of the situation.
"I did it... I killed him... I've won!" Forge began laughing maniacally.
"Did you see that Raem! Was that 'sloppy?' Was that 'careless?' I've told you once, and I'll tell you again. There is not a single man or woman in this forsaken tournament that can defeat-!"

Forge's breath was cut off. His heart began pounding faster and faster.
"What... is... this!?!?"
Arms shaking, he removed his fist from above T`qual's head. They had never fealt so heavy before. He could barely hold his hands above the coarse sand. Next his legs went numb. He couldn't fathom the strength to stand.
"The poison...
...But I've won. Why am I-?"
His speech was interrupted by the pain of a thousand needles piercing his heart. His entire body twitched in agony and finally, his heart failed him alltogether. As the life left his body, Forge dropped face first down to the sand next to T`qual.

As the two corpses lie motionless, the sand continued to blow through the wind. Slowly, the sand accumulated on top of the two combatants. Soon they were completely covered. Buried beneath the sand that had been their battlefield. As the sand continued to pile up, the two warriors were left beneath their own desert tomb. Any sign of battle that had once existed was now gone. It was as if the battle never occurred, and the two fighters never existed.
Finally the sun set just like it had the night before, and darkness was cast across the still barren wasteland.

[post 7]

Final Averages

Forge: 7.5
T'qual: 7.66666

T'qual Def. Forge

*bursts into tears*

Heh, just kidding. Great fight James. Even though I lost, out of the 4 RP battles I've been in since joining this site, this one has definitely been my favorite.

*offers congratulatory hand shake*

*Accepts handshake*

You did great as well, Derek. Even though I had desired to fight against you since the day's of Gelfman's tournament (when you faced off against Sean as Raem), when it came to our actual duel there were times I downright dreaded the fight and where I had spent far more time than what I should simply deciding on a course of action. I'm simply glad the fight was completed and finally concluded; nonetheless, it was most enjoyable for myself and a true test of ability.

I know I've said it before, but I want to again apologize for the delays I took when replying; I didn't have much right to take such liberties.

Don't worry about it. Neither one of us was very propmt with a lot of those. Not towards the end anyway. Lets just be proud that together we managed to allow a fight to span 3 months. :P