AA Ladder: Zandro vs. Ronovi - Round 1

The air was crisp and cold upon the plateau of the Citadel. It was eerily quiet in the courtyard, the familiar silence of dawn that seemed to sap the energy from anyone unlucky enough to be up at such an hour. The vivid hues of daybreak were somewhat sullen this sunrise, though; drained by the thick dark clouds above. The customary moistness of morning added a cool humidity to the climate inside the courtyard’s low walls, but it did little to wet the dry throats of the three Arconans perched above Estle. The courtyard was a picture of beauty: luscious grass, marbled walkways and flowerbeds that decked the opening to the Citadel. All of it a wonderful façade for what went on behind the onyx walls.

Wuntila stood in front of the Citadel, garbed in a heavy black cloak that fluttered mildly with the breeze. Zandro and Ronovi looked at their Proconsul and knelt, bowing their heads as they did so.

“You are both here because you chose to look fate in the eyes. Remember the rules, don’t get ahead of yourselves and fight like Arconans.” Wuntila turned on his heel, his cloak billowing, and disappeared into the shadow of the Citadel.

Both fighters looked at each other and rose. They marched off in opposite directions and faced each other, waiting in anticipation for their signal.

They didn’t have to wait long.

“Begin!” The Proconsul barked. The two combatants heard the heavy stone doors of the Citadel echo across Estle.


(Ronovi to Post First)

Standing along one of the pristine marble walkways, Ronovi felt like a crude marble statue of her own. A tall, battered edifice scarred by conflict and age, she remained unmoving for a time after the Citadel doors had closed. She opened and closed her right hand, the sinews in her fingers stretching in synchronization with the crackling of her knuckles.

At least I don't have to kill him, she thought to herself. Getting through that laminanium armor would be such a pain in the neck.

She took two steps further as her mind pulsated with the rest of her body. Zandro waited at the very end of the walkway, his face stoic under his long, tied back hair. The black armor was like a tight tapestry over his silhouette, and although the man was shorter than his opponent, his appearance made up for his lack of altitude. Synapse, his simply constructed single-handed lightsaber, was unceremoniously hanging from his side.

He was waiting for Ronovi to strike first.

"Consul," Ronovi pronounced, lifting the veil of silence that had hung over the quiet courtyard. "It's an honor being able to serve you and fight you at the same time. Fitting for you Arconans, I guess."

"You still have much to learn about how we work and how we achieve strength," Zandro replied, a small smile dancing on his quivering lips. "Tarentum did not provide many of these opportunities to prove your mettle."

"Then I'm happy to prove it once and for all," said Ronovi.

Zandro sensed her movement before she even executed it, for as she shrugged off her heavy black coat, he was already moving quickly upon her, lightsaber growling red in his grip. Ronovi held out the hilt of her double-bladed lightsaber so that its blue blades shot out in a line across her chest, giving her the shape of a fiery cerulean cross. The rage of Juyo, even in its most basic form, was like a dragon clawing its way out of her constricted blood vessels in an effort to break through the chest. Angry spittle flew from Ronovi's teeth as she jabbed forward, catching Zandro's blade and sending it askew from its fleshy target.

It was then that the once frigid atmosphere of the plateau seemed to become molten lava coursing down upon the Arconans' heads. The honored Arconae had started with a Vapaad swing, then broke off the aggression with a keen throw of the shoulder to switch his saber into a Soresu stance. Ronovi realized, as she struggled to maintain her near-mastery of Vapaad coupled with her unyielding rudimentary Juyo knowledge, that Zandro was a master of the lightsaber. Synapse was not a weapon but another arm, a white-hot claw trying to probe its enemy's throat and shred it into thin meaty strings.

Ronovi could feel her forehead swelling from the blood pumping into her constricted brow, her perspiration surprisingly cold on her cheeks and her set jaw. Tearing away from Zandro, Ronovi let her muscles relax for just a moment as her eyes burned from the Force that throbbed around the corners of her mind. The illusion she allowed to drift into Zandro's sight was murky and unfinished - like a rag doll of herself bouncing around with a toy saber. Ronovi grimaced at the way it dangled in the air, clown-faced and almost more of a product from using the Force power of horror rather than illusion. However, it was still a suitable distraction, and it made Zandro's head pivot one way while Ronovi leapt the other, Equite Speed zipping through her legs and making her adrenaline surge hot like whiskey in her veins.

She thought fast as she landed at Zandro's left side. He was already beginning to turn back around, but the eyepatch slapped against what was one his left eye would prove a hindrance to him. With one brisk movement, Ronovi swung at his left flank, the blue light turning to wisps in the reflection of her electric eyepatch. She grinned at the sound of a pained grunt as Zandro stumbled and toppled over the walkway, falling into the grass beside it.

Ronovi burst into a feverish run toward Zandro, double blades spinning like a blue tornado in its ugly wake. She could see the minor cauterized wound on Zandro's leg just before the armor began to regenerate, and the Arconae, with a loud, exasperated guttural noise, swung his saber so violently against Ronovi's that the impact ripped both weapons from their owners' hands and sent them flying in opposite directions. Ronovi heard the clatter of her saber against marble as if it were an echo, a distant memory of a moment that had only happened seconds earlier. Time was an illusion that she did not have to construct from mental stone, and the hands of the clock no longer caressed her flushed face and frozen lips.

Neither Arconan moved to pick up the scattered lightsabers as Zandro leapt to his feet. He seemed entirely unfazed by the leg wound, his breastplate instead rising and falling with harsh breaths. Now the dragon and primal beast within both of them seemed to burst from their ribcages, and Ronovi howled as she threw herself forward in a vicious Broken Gate punch just as the Erinos succumbed to Carinor speed and caught the Exarch's wrist deftly in his right hand.

Zandro’s speed was all that seemed to be standing between him and a pummelling at the hands of the taller female he found himself battling. Catching Ronovi’s wrist in his right hand, the Warlord allowed a trickle of Force energy to syphon into the muscles of his right arm, allowing them to surpass the normal limitations and enabling the Sith to hurl his opponent away from him. Rising up to his full and not overly impressive height, Zandro turned to see his opponent rising also, the female Epicanthix straightening and glaring at the Consul with her one good eye. A smirk played on the man’s lips, pulling his scars in ways that seemed to accentuate them more than usual as he began to speak, his voice reaching over the flowerbeds that separated the two fighters.

“That cut hurt you know. I acknowledge you haven’t been here long, so allow me to show you something that makes Arcona special.”

The air around the standing Arconae seemed to ripple, distorting as though something were moving beneath its surface. A low, guttural sort of growling sound seemed to emanate from no one place in particular, rather being made up of many parts from many places, all uniting to create a cacophony of potential menace. The scarred face of the Consul grew solemn as the smile faded from his face and he almost felt the unfamiliar sensation of pity.

Almost.

“Say hello to the Wyrm.”

A sound akin to ripping cloth rent the air as reality itself seemed to tear. A large mottled black creature burst into being before Zandro, the Force creation pulling itself unnaturally from seeming nothingness to slowly envelop the Consul in some sort of protective shield. Finally the wraith was fully free and the tear that had appeared in the air before the Warlord sealed itself, the Pitwyrm slowly encircling its master while keeping its ‘head’ focused on the enemy before it. Its half dozen metres of body were long and featureless, a tube of mottled shadow that tapered off at one end and was tipped at the other by a maw of vicious looking teeth. No features could be made out apart from the teeth and Zandro had known more than one opponent to be unnerved by the fact that they couldn’t quite work out where the Wyrm was looking.

“I decided to eschew tradition and instead of clamouring to get several little wraiths, focused instead on bringing a single one to heel. As you can see, the Wyrm can be quite intimidating, although I don’t expect that to stop you.”

Zandro’s remaining eye narrowed as he focused on coming up with some sort of plan, the Sith knowing that the short stoppage in combat would not last and that he would need to come up with something to try and give himself the upper hand. He looked at the environment around him, acknowledging the pros and cons of each piece of different terrain that seemed to be crammed into the area within which the two Arconans fought. It was the riotous colours that emanated from the flowerbed between the two combatants which caught Zandro’s eye and a sudden idea implanted itself into the front of the man’s mind. He knew that it would take almost all of the remaining Force power that the Consul could muster, but if it proved to be effective then it would mean that he could end this match now and emerge victorious.

That’s the plan anyway.

Firstly, the Sith harnessed the Force to slowly start the air above the flowerbed that stood between Ronovi and himself spinning, building the force of the miniature cyclone up until it began to threaten to burst free of his control. The makeshift whirlwind swept flowers up, pulling them into it with the power of its cyclonic winds and causing it to take on a different appearance, the different hues and colours of the various colours that it had ripped from the ground making it seem almost beautiful and most definitely distracting, obscuring both combatants from the view of the other.

Time is ticking, gotta act now.

Hoping that Ronovi would be expecting some sort of attack following the obviously distracting first move, Zandro reached out with the Force and sensed his opponent some way before him on the other side of the whirlwind that the Consul had set into motion. Exerting his will onto the cycloptic woman’s mind, the Warlord began weaving an illusion together and implanting it onto the Exarch’s consciousness, willing her to believe the visual lie he was pushing onto her. The image of a wraith suddenly gambolling around the whirlwind from the right would be placed into her mind and she would react, finely honed senses and perfectly practised muscle memory bringing her around to attack the threat that, she would believe, was coming from the right side of the flower-laden cyclone.

A shame really that these instincts could very well prove to be her downfall.

The illusion of a wraith attack from the right was just that, an illusion. Zandro hoped that his practise with the use of the Force, particularly the more delicate uses such as the implanting of images into someone else’s mind, would pay off as he sent his wraith around the cyclone to attack from Ronovi’s left-hand side. With the last of his Force power, the Warlord flooded his leg muscles with energy and leapt above the cyclone he had created, subconsciously noting that the whirlwind was already dying down. Gliding effortlessly over the dying vortex, Zandro descended blind into the potential melee, his arm cocked back and ready to strike as he waited the necessary nanoseconds to find out how successful his attempted feint and attack had been.

Let it work, let this be over because if it isn’t, I could very well be in trouble here.

Wordlessly, with concentration furrowing his brow and sweat slicking his hair back across his face the Sith descended.

Deathpost

Ronovi was mentally screaming. She didn't dare let the sound break through her clenched jaw. The sight of gleaming teeth from an ebony worm, seeming to twist on the grass like molten metal, could have easily frozen her blood and split her heart into icy fragments. The Wraith coiled about Zandro's feet like a serpent, but it didn't need a rattle to strike fear into its target when its heavy, fang-laden head was enough material for that.

Physically, however, Ronovi was moving. Her strength locked within the raw tendons of her muscles, she concentrated on agility rather than unadulterated power. She saw the flowers spin into a wild mosaic of color above her head. What once were roses or delicate creations were nothing but blurred crimson and white, like blood and platelets blending together in a rusty temper tantrum above her head.

In her panic, she was awed by the demonstration, entranced by it. The cyclone was dancing for her, its choreography cyclical and never-ending. Petals flew in all directions, ripped up roots whipping past Ronovi's ears and catching in the strands of her hair that had broken away from her ponytail. Dirt and dust snapped at her eyes like they too were beasts with teeth. She breathed as the smell of floral perfume grew bitter when mixed with the salty dirt and sour grass. But in the midst of the blues and reds and yellows and whites, she saw black ooze forward, unctuous yet drifting like smoke.

Oh, God! her mind roared as she saw a shadow in her peripheral vision. The damn thing's coming right toward me!

But that couldn't be right. According to the spare knowledge that Ronovi had, Equites' Wraiths couldn't quite attack, only defend. The distorted and demented silhouette of the Wyrm seemed to move on her right, but the whirlwind still separated enough to show flits of Zandro's unmoving face. If given any more time, Ronovi would've had a better plan, deciding whether to move right or left given what was real and what was not. But when the clock was fighting against her with fists of its own, trying to stain her face with carnage before her opponent got there first; strategy was not quick to sneak in.

Instead, she jumped.

That was it. A simple jump, a forceful leap straight up into the air, bow-legged with dry breaths scraping the sky as her lungs shrieked for compensation. The cold air stung her face and bare arms during the time she hung in empty space like a marionette which strings had been lopped up. From the corner of her eye, she saw what had been an illusion after all fading from her sight, turning into nothing but black dust before disappearing entirely. As she descended, she saw Zandro's flurrying fist meet with feeble wind and color as the whirlwind died down.

The red specks of dead roses remained in the air for some time, swooning in the remaining zephyr as the wind grew gentle once again and the chill returned. Ronovi landed in a pile of broken thorns and petals, like a vicious royal carpet had been lain out for her return. Her boots shook within the Consul's makeshift artwork as she righted herself, expecting Zandro to be a few feet away.

Instead, she felt a fist collide into her face.

Cursing, Ronovi stumbled backward, gurgling blood until it spilled down both sides of her chin like war paint. She tasted warm metal, dust, and wind all at the same time. Her organic eye could have spit fire if she had wanted it to, but instead her words, red-hot and hissing, did the work for it.

"You bastard!"

Zandro did not reply, but Ronovi could see anger being bridled within him for his failed coup d'grace. A strange, shrill sound seemed to emerge from the Wyrm's throat as its head lulled forward, maw open wide as if ready to swallow the city. Regardless of the thing's incapability of striking her, Ronovi let out a small squeak as she watched its jaws open and close. Zandro was already marching forward, and the Wraith could have very well passed off as evil living coattails for him.

Ronovi could sense that while the Erinos's Force powers were depleted, his physical strength was not. He was still fast and fierce, jaw set as he lashed forward at the Exarch. She found herself blocking more than punching or kicking, using Hapan arts to reflect Zandro's fists from her chest and face. She did not dare strike for fear that she would touch the beast separating her from the Consul's body.

Her strength was fading, and fast. Grunting, Ronovi threw herself a few feet away from Zandro, landing forcefully on the grass. She heard the clicking of teeth and dodged Zandro's lunge again, likening herself to a leapfrog stumbling on sinking lily pads.

It's no use. If he still has that Wraith as a shield, I can't hit him.

The Epicanthix despised losing. She was not one to cower like a dog with her tail between her legs. However, if she had to lose the battle to Zandro, she would not do so without a fight. Standing upright again, Ronovi let herself lapse into an offensive Stava stance, knees apart and arms extended. Her chest heaved against the stretched tunic of her uniform, her sweat mingling with the blood on her cheeks and jaw. She heard Zandro chuckle at the sight, the scuffling of grass heard under his Wraith's bulk as the scars on his face stretched in subtle glee.

"It's over, Tavisaen," he murmured with an air of triumph in his voice, although she could still hear a strain of impatience.

"You told me to say hello to your little Wyrm friend," Ronovi snarled. "Well, now I'm saying goodbye."

What Zandro must have been sensing, despite his confidence, was the Force energy coursing through Ronovi's body like adrenaline, a drugged needle to the exposed blue vein. It was as if she had stepped into a sauna as all the heat rose into her face until she felt a sudden coolness in her limbs. The Wraith, in all its contorted splendor, was the primary thing she focused on, her vision sharp as if to counter the rows upon rows of teeth that whirred in its mouth like spinning blades. She was a Force minimalist, perhaps...but she knew it was time to employ some power.

Zandro breathed. The Wyrm curled up in preparation for the offense. And Ronovi sprang.

She jumped simply to the side this time, landing semi-gracefully on one knee as the Wyrm turned its head. It did not slow down. It did not recoil. It simply let its mass slither and swarm about the grass, just as Ronovi turned her head to look at it dead on.

Her right hand unfurled. It was as if the Force, like water, was being pumped from a large source in her stomach, rushing like swelling rivers through her arms and legs, cold and quick. Then all at once, the dam burst, as the power of obliteration charged into her circuits and erupted from her hands like an invisible fireball.

"ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGH!"

The Exarch reeled backward from the impact, clutching her right hand as if it had been scalded. In one instant, the Wyrm had been there, serving as its summoner's bodyguard. In the next, it had burst apart like a bloated blood vessel, the fibers ripping into threads that danced in the frigid morning. They drifted downward, curling like strands of hair, before disappearing like black ash on a mellow terrain. Ronovi, with all her Force power, had obliterated Zandro's Force Wraith.

The Consul stood frozen, but his facial expression had not changed. Ronovi noticed his reaction before she caught a glimpse of the silver hilt of her lightsaber lying patiently on the grass for her. She stretched out her hand, grasping the weapon tightly, before lifting herself to her feet and breaking into a fierce run.

The battle cry that tore from her throat became a whimper very quickly, for as she activated her saber, the blue blades squealed for only a moment as she tumbled back to the ground. She was on her hands and knees now, wheezing and clutching her chest with her left hand, as if someone had kicked her there and sucked the music right out of her windpipe.

As a Force minimalist, Ronovi was unused to channeling such great Force power all at once. As a result, it had rendered the Exarch completely exhausted.

She heard the rattle of a hilt as Zandro stooped down to pick up Synapse from the marble where it had fallen. The walkways were strewn with flower petals, grass, and dirt, the earth torn up around their feet from their encounter. He walked slowly toward the collapsed Ronovi, who raised her head slowly but still did not let her eye stop blazing fire.

"Impressive near-mastery of the Force art," Zandro said. "But honestly, did it have to be on my Wraith? And you had to have known it would leave you a little drained."

"20/20 hindsight," Ronovi gasped, coughing loudly and using her fingernails to scrape the dried blood off her face.

Zandro smiled thinly before offering a hand. As Ronovi was pulled to her feet, she coughed again, red spittle breaking from her mouth. Zandro's tone had shifted, as he was speaking to an ally rather than an opponent now.

"Hey, now," he said. "Let's get you cleaned up. You get a high score for effort."

"Yay, me," Ronovi breathed, a disgruntled look settling on her brow.

"Nothing like a trip to the city to fix your mood," replied Zandro. "And if you want, I can direct you to a place in the Sinchi Ring that serves up a fine glass of Whyren's Reserve."

Deathpost

As Zandro floated over the dying whirlwind he had created, he was struck by the notion that he hadn’t really come up with a plan B. While the attacks that the Warlord had sent his opponent’s way should prove effective, charging (or in this case, leaping) into battle without a contingency plan was decidedly unwise. Without even his lightsaber to fight with, the Erinos knew that the only thing keeping the odds balanced was the fact that Ronovi was without her lightsaber as well.

And I’ve tipped the scales in my favour by taking the initiative.

The thought occurred as the Sith caught sight of his opponent wheeling around to face the ‘threat’ from her right, the illusionary Wraith seeming to descend on the cycloptic female with reckless abandon, bursting into wispy nothingness when a sudden telekinetic strike burst through it and shattered the illusion, breaking its hold on the Epicanthix and more than likely leaving the new Arconan more than a little on-edge. From the corner of his remaining eye, Zandro could see his actual wraith arcing around the dying vortex to attack Ronovi from the left, its wide mouth agape as the snake-like Force manifestation charged. Zandro’s descent began as he reached the apex of his jump, his momentum carrying him down towards the one-eyed figure below him.

Stuck between a rock and a hard place…or in this case a Wyrm and a fist.

Time, which had seemed to slow down to a halt as the Consul was leaping over the Force whirlwind he had mustered before, suddenly returned to its usual pace as Zandro dropped towards the ground, his arm cocked back and swinging forwards as he descended. The punch lashed out and swept through the air which Ronovi had only just been occupying, missing the woman as she leapt backwards to create distance between the two combatants. A sudden thrill of fear shot down the Consul’s spine as he realised that he was stood exactly where his opponent had been seconds before and that his own wraith was bearing down on the spot he now occupied. With as much speed as the man could muster, Zandro cancelled the Force link to the wraith, taking away its anchor to the physical realm and banishing it to the ether even as it bore down onto its master. Letting out a breath he hadn’t quite realised he had been holding, the Warlord turned his attention fully back to the woman who stood a mere handful of metres away, glaring at the human male.

“Sort of embarrassing to almost get hit with your own move isn’t it?”

Zandro shrugged, feigning nonchalance as he wiped sweat from his brown with the back of his hand and took stock of the energy he had left, suppressing a grimace when he realised that he had almost exhausted all of his Force energy.

“It’s a Wraith; they can have a mind of their own at times.”

Fingers flexing, the Sith Warlord scanned the area before him for any sign of his lightsaber but was disappointed to realise that it wasn’t in sight. Accepting the fact that he would need to continue the fight without his weapon and would have to focus on using his body as a weapon, Zandro charged towards his opponent.

Need to make it quick though, I’m almost out of energy and if that happens, I won’t be able to do much about it.

A roar split the air as the man ran, his feet pounding the ground as his exceptional speed showed itself. The Erinos covered the ground between himself and his opponent in a flash, closing in on Ronovi almost before she had even begun moving, her right fist flashing out in a straight jab towards the Arconae’s jaw. Twisting his neck even as he came quickly to a stop, the strike glanced off the side of Zandro’s head and he stumbled sideways slightly as his head swam. A left handed slap arched out to be swatted aside by Ronovi who followed up with another strike towards the Sith’s face. Side-stepping the blow, the Warlord threw a quick one-two combo of his own back towards the Exarch, the two blows being deflected harmlessly aside by deft use of the woman’s forearms. A leg-sweep was jumped over by the Sith before his open-handed slap to the side of the Ronovi’s head was ducked by the taller female. Blows rained thick and fast with conscious thought seeming to give way completely to pure reflex and more than a little bit of luck. A vicious roundhouse punch from the Exarch was avoided narrowly by the Warlord before Zandro pulled on Ronovi’s outstretched arm and lashed out with a vicious elbow strike which glanced off the female Epicanthix’s chin. A few shaky steps backwards took the former-Tarentae away from Zandro, giving the man from Yaga Minor a few precious nanoseconds of breathing room.

He wouldn’t waste them.

Every trickle of Force energy that the man could muster began to focus, concentrating around his voice box as he sucked in a breath and laced the now-inhaled air with the energy that he had collected. Zandro screamed; a high pitched, Force enhanced expression of mingled anger, pain and frustration that swept out like an ocean tide. The invisible sound waves buffeted the Sith’s opponent, attacking the Obelisk’s nervous system and causing severe problems with Ronovi’s sense of balance and her stomach. The sound of retching split the air as the Exarch’s stomach emptied itself all over the floor that stood in front of the Citadel. For the moment, Ronovi could concentrate on nothing but vomiting and trying to regain control of her body and its various functions. This would prove to be a moment too long however, and Zandro darted forward and swept his leg out in a low roundhouse that took his opponent’s legs out from under her, dumping the Epicanthix unceremoniously onto the floor of their makeshift arena.

I’ve won.

Leaning over to offer a hand to help lift Ronovi to her feet, Zandro let a smirk slip onto his face as he revelled in his victory, and in doing so he completely missed the sudden telekinetic strike that hit him behind the knees, knocking his own legs out as he slammed into the ground, groaning in pain.

“Draw then?”

Coughing slightly, Zandro shook his head in annoyance, his tiredness catching up with him as a wave of exhaustion washed over him.

“Go on then, seems like a fair result.”

Ronovi’s face appeared above the Erinos, the one-eyed female offering him a hand and speaking as she loomed over him.

“Coming back to the Citadel?”

“I think I’ll just lie here for a bit and enjoy the weather.”

Ronovi scoffed, shaking her head slightly as she straightened up and began to walk off, a single throwaway comment floating back towards the Consul on the air.

“You’re getting old, Erinos.”

“I heard that.”

Ronovi – Post 1

“… lightsaber growling red in his grip.” – I’m not sure whether this description has the desired effect.

“… was like a dragon clawing its way out of her constricted blood vessels in an effort to break through the chest.” – Rather wordy. Nonetheless, good imagery.

“… The honored Arconae had started with a Vapaad swing, then broke off the aggression with a keen throw of the shoulder to switch his saber into a Soresu stance. Ronovi realized, as she struggled to maintain her near-mastery of Vapaad coupled with her unyielding rudimentary Juyo knowledge… ” – Try not to specifically address the Lightsaber styles used. Granted, it tends to help when you are initialising the description, but using the style names excessively tends to fog up the atmosphere of the post. In future, try to be more descriptive with how you present the attack, only punctuating it with the name of the style. Though, again, good imagery.

“…Force power of horror rather than illusion. However, it was still a suitable distraction, and it made Zandro's head pivot one way while Ronovi leapt the other, Equite Speed zipping through her legs…” – ACC annotations should have been used on both these descriptions. It is an ACC rule and, as stated in the rules post, ACC rules are enforced in this tournament. Saying that, It is a good description and I know you’re new to the ACC atmosphere, so its not a significant issue, it is just one I thought necessary to address for future tournaments.

“… surge hot like whiskey in her veins.” – I don’t know what whiskey you drink, but if its warm it tends to taste quite bitter. Either way, nice description.

“…but the eyepatch slapped against what was one his left eye would prove a hindrance to him.” – Should have been ‘once’. Other than that, nice use of Character sheet reference. Good job.

“…Broken Gate punch just as the Erinos succumbed to Carinor speed and caught the Exarch's wrist deftly in his right hand.” – Same application as the Lightsaber styles apply here. Try to describe the punch as opposed to naming it. It’ll give your combat writing more of an edge in future.

Overall, this isn’t a bad post. Other than the issues outlined above, it was a succinct and very imaginative way to open the fight. Your grammar and spelling is sound and you seem to have used the resources available to you well. You’ve created a nice atmosphere for the battle to progress into.

Nice work.

Zandro – Post 1

“…Warlord allowed a trickle of Force energy to syphon into the muscles of his right arm, allowing them to surpass the normal limitations and enabling the Sith to hurl his opponent away from him.” – As I stated previously, the use of Force Power Annotations are imperative in such a fight. It just enables easier judging. Other than that, this is a concise and well-described execution of Enhance Ability.

Great introduction of ‘The Wyrm’. It built suspense and it provided quite a nice twist to the battle. Again, needed annotations, but well done.
“A sound akin to ripping cloth rent the air as reality itself seemed to tear.” – You’re a poet and you didn’t know it.

“…He looked at the environment around him, acknowledging the pros and cons of each piece of different terrain…” – Nice use of Intelligence and Wisdom there. Nice work.

“Hoping that Ronovi would be expecting some sort of attack following the obviously distracting first move, Zandro reached out with the Force and sensed his opponent some way before him on the other side of the whirlwind that the Consul had set into motion.” – This is a bit of a confusing sentence. I think the biggest downside of it is the use of ‘the Consul’, having already established Zandro as the main actor. ‘He’ would have been sufficient.

“The illusion of a wraith attack from the right was just that, an illusion. Zandro hoped that his practise with the use of the Force, particularly the more delicate uses such as the implanting of images into someone else’s mind…” – A three-worded utterance that should help you in future: Annotations, annotations, annotations.

Overall, this posts exceeded my expectations. Much like Ronovi’s first post, it really captures the reader and draws you into the atmosphere of the fight. Perhaps the real clincher in this post was the tactical twist and the fact you left said twist on a cliff-hanger. Seriously though, if you guys don’t start using annotations in the next round, I’ll have to go medieval on you. A well executed post. Well done.

Ronovi – Deathpost

“The Wraith coiled about Zandro's feet like a serpent, but it didn't need a rattle to strike fear into its target when its heavy, fang-laden head was enough material for that.” A 6 meter-long wraith curling around Zandro’s feet would result in Ronovi only being able to see his top half. This is a huge incarnation, so I think this was a little optimistic. I did, however, see the image you were trying to conjure. Nice work, it just didn’t fit in, continuity-wise.

“…like blood and platelets blending together in a rusty temper tantrum above her head.” - Fantastic description. Love it.

“In her panic, she was awed by the demonstration, entranced by it. The cyclone was dancing for her, its choreography cyclical and never-ending. Petals flew in all directions, ripped up roots whipping past Ronovi's ears and catching in the strands of her hair that had broken away from her ponytail. Dirt and dust snapped at her eyes like they too were beasts with teeth. She breathed as the smell of floral perfume grew bitter when mixed with the salty dirt and sour grass. But in the midst of the blues and reds and yellows and whites, she saw black ooze forward, unctuous yet drifting like smoke.” – Sorry to cut & paste a whole paragraph, I just wanted to say that this is the sort of writing the ACC needs. Its vibrant, atmospheric and it really sets the tone of the fight. It’s a fantastic piece of writing, well done.

“But that couldn't be right. According to the spare knowledge that Ronovi had, Equites' Wraiths couldn't quite attack, only defend.” Fatal error; Force Wraiths can both attack and defend, but they are easily overcome with the force. This is a shame, because the post really does deserve an award of some kind.
“…landed in a pile of broken thorns and petals, like a vicious royal carpet had been lain out for her return.” Nice description. Lovely job.

“Regardless of the thing's incapability of striking her, Ronovi let out a small squeak as she watched its jaws open and close. Zandro was already marching forward, and the Wraith could have very well passed off as evil living coattails for him.” – Again, unfortunately the force Wraiths can attack.

“Ronovi could sense that while the Erinos's Force powers were depleted, his physical strength was not. He was still fast and fierce, jaw set as he lashed forward at the Exarch. She found herself blocking more than punching or kicking, using Hapan arts to reflect Zandro's fists from her chest and face. She did not dare strike for fear that she would touch the beast separating her from the Consul's body.” – Nice use of the Wyrm as a barrier between Ronovi and Zandro. I like it.

“She heard Zandro chuckle at the sight, the scuffling of grass heard under his Wraith's bulk as the scars on his face stretched in subtle glee.” – if this sentence were a woman… Nice job.

“…as the power of obliteration charged into her circuits and erupted from her hands like an invisible fireball.” – Annotation required, again. Other than that, well done. You seem to have mastered what few have: the ability to dissipate a Force Wraith. Nice work.

"ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGH!" – Unnecessary.

“As a Force minimalist, Ronovi was unused to channeling such great Force power all at once. As a result, it had rendered the Exarch completely exhausted.” – All characters have limitations. You have used that limitation and implemented it during the fight. It’s a nice twist on the generally gung-ho approach most people have to their character in combat.

Overall, not a bad deathpost at all. It was very engaging, extremely well-described and beautifully crafted. Unfortunately, I fear that your knowledge of Force Wraiths is somewhat thin, and thus the post could have had quite a different feel if you had fully grasped the Wraith as an attacking, rather than defending, tool. Nice work, though. Really well written, especially for an individual who doesn’t ACC and as an ACC-Newbie against an ACC-Ace.

Zandro – Deapthpost

“Without even his lightsaber to fight with, the Erinos knew that the only thing keeping the odds balanced was the fact that Ronovi was without her lightsaber as well.” – Continuity box = tick.

“…Zandro’s descent began as he reached the apex of his jump, his momentum carrying him down towards the one-eyed figure below him.” – This whole paragraph is well-written and succinct. It carries the battle forward. Nice work.

“A sudden thrill of fear…” – Thrill of fear doesn’t sound particularly right.

“With as much speed as the man could muster, Zandro cancelled the Force link to the wraith, taking away its anchor to the physical realm and banishing it to the ether even as it bore down onto its master.” – Nice work with the twist. Good job. Both you and Ronovi have made an interesting fight through the twists and turns you have used. Its really made for a good read. Give yourself a pat on the back.

“…energy he had left… exhausted all of his Force energy.” – Energy repeated, throws the sentence off. Otherwise, nice work.

“…fight without his weapon and would have to focus on using his body as a weapon, Zandro charged towards his opponent.” – Again, repetition. Not major, but something to look out for in future.

“The sound of retching split the air as the Exarch’s stomach emptied itself all over the floor that stood in front of the Citadel.” – I would like to say ‘nice imagery’, but that could easily be taken the wrong way. Instead, I’ll say interesting imagery. Again, annotations needed, but good work.

Overall, a very nice deathpost. Very well-written and a fantastic number of different twists and turns, including tripping Ronnie up in her own vomit. Very interesting. It was a nice end, also. Progressive and developed. Good effort.

Result

Of the first posts, Zandro was victorious in terms of plot twists and turns; Ronovi, for her beautiful prose and her atmospheric introduction. There is very little to distinguish an outright winner between these two as they are both fantastic pieces of literature and definitely worth a read later down the line.

Of the deathposts, Zandro pipped Ronovi to the post. Both were fantastic pieces of writing again and it was not for a lack of trying that Ronovi didn’t progress. It was, in the end, down to the fact that the force wraith is depicted as a defensive item, as opposed to its true nature. One can only speculate as to how the post may have developed later on down the line if the Force Wraith had been written correctly, but my guess is that the result could have been quite different.

You should both be proud of your efforts and you’ve done Arcona and the ACC proud with your posts.

As much as I’d like to differ, I have to declare one winner and that is Zandro.

Zandro, you now advance to the second round. Ronovi, you had a fantastic fight. It was purely on technicality that you lost.

Great job guys, well fought.

-Wuntila Zratian Entar,
Proconsul of Clan Arcona.

Guess I need to read wiki pages more accurately. I even wrote the original post with Zandro's Wraith attacking, but a line from the DJBWiki page really threw me for a loop. I misread it as saying Equites' Force Wraiths can only defend when I guess in truth it meant it can't attack independently, only with the help of its master.

Well, done, Zandro. You really made this battle a blast for me.