The desert winds blow far below him. He is high above the ground, with a vast assortment of boulders at his disposal. One sudden movement and the entire load will drop, crushing whoever is unfortunate enough to pass through under his watchful eye. He can't help but snack on a few of the loose rocks while he wits for the samurai to pass by.

Martir Gavin has always enjoyed burying objects and watching debris and rubbles tumble, and he expresses the interest in his methods of assassination. His specialty weapon is how own food. A loud, raspy cough rings through the air as the ill Goron clears his throat. He spits phlegm out of his mouth and coughs more. He has become increasingly sick, and the dry, desert air does not help his condition. His sneezes burst out louder than his landslides, and he can not anticipate more the prospect of returning home.

Dublin has informed him that he is to return his target's head to the senate, which disheartens the Goron. Not because he dislikes decapitating, but because he would rather not sort through his mess trying to find a single head. Even through all of the bad conditions he has been given, Martir is still glad to be able to try out his coveted technique for the first time in years. He waits for his target, Dogura, to walk by so that he can drop the load and go home.

Dogura didnt want to be anywhere near an asassin, and he knew his home wasnt safe. Although he knew he didnt have much to fear, he didnt feel like bothering with the pest. He had decided to retreat to his summer home in the village nearby. Possibly have a cup of cofee, and a nap. It was getting increasingly hot under the desert sun, as Dogura drew near his home away from home. He stopped abruptly. He looked around, and casually continued. Something isnt right... He thought. There is normally guay flying around, but Dogura had seen none since 15 minutes ago. Due to his extencive knoledge, he knew that where Guay dont fly, there is danger. He decided to keep his guard up the rest of the journey to the village.

Martir glanced down from his position on the mountain, eyeing the peculiar man traveling far below. He knew who this was: Dogura, the samurai that the Goron had been tasked with the honour of decapitating. He understood the risk of his landslide failing, and so he took extra special caution when hopping to his feet. He let out a wild groan; clearly, this illness had begun to move throughout his aching body. What is happening to me... he had though as the electrical pain coursed through his spine and along his body.

Dogura was nearing the target point. Something terrible occurred, however, that could very well have saved the young vagabond's life. Martir's disease caught him off guard, and he began to sneeze and cough uncontrollably, lashing out with his massive hands and feet as he attempted to regain control of his body. An unfortunate day indeed. For in his panic, the ill Goron had flailed his unique landslide setup with his hefty body weight, prematurely sending a shower of rocks and debris down on the empty desert below.

Less than a foot from where Dogura is walking, an enormous boulder found its way to the ground, shooting sand and pebbles into the air as it landed with a bellowing thump. A spray of sand showered on the safe samurai, as the remainder of boulders and rubble were deposited directly ahead of him. It ended quickly, but it was a horrible moment for whoever had caused the landslide.

Far above, Martir stood slack-jawed and confused. What had happened? Had he just... sprang his trap early? This was a terrible happening for Martir. He peered over the cliff at the sand-soaked vagabond below, almost screaming in anguish as his entire landslide avoided its initial target. He knew he had but one chance to fulfill his duty now: man-to-man combat. The Goron hobbled down the mountainside towards his target.

Dogura had shielded his eyes from the flying debris, and took a step back. He looked up to see what had caused the avalanche. The sun was too bright to see clearly, but the form of a goron appeared before him. He then glanced the the boulder that had landed so close to him. It emited an immence heat, and looked extremely heavy. He shuddered at the thought of being under that rock, but turned back to his stalker. The samurai took a step back, and rested a hand on the hilt of his recently sharpened sword. He waited, as the pale Goron approached him. Unsure about weather or not to relax, Dogura's eyes turned a yellow color, as he peered into the mind of the Goron. It was now clear to Dogura, that the asassin had followed, or even been waiting for him. Dogura unsheathed his sword, ready for the approaching enemy. As the glare from the blade shined in the Gorons eyes, Dogura waited not a second longer! He dashed in, and prepared to fight the sickly Goron, as he holered "You made the wrong choise to follow me you sickly fool..."

Martir had had plenty experience fighting with his hands during his time working under the supervision of his allies in the secret group that few knew about. There had never been time to set up ingenious landslides, nor had there been time to find suitable sized boulders in that dark place. He had grown accustomed to throwing about his hefty Goron hands as potent weapons, and doubted this Dogura fellow would stand a chance. But then, Martir had always been an arrogant man.

He advanced on the samurai, fists clenched and ready to kill. He knew it would not take many hits to kill off the vagabond, but his bulk had gotten the better of him on several occasions. One target, long ago, had taken advantage of his slow movements and his awful spirit. Strength and Defense were this Goron's aces; sturdy as a rock, and twice as strong. The simile had appeared in his methods countless times over the years. Now, with his landslide a failure, Martir prepares to make use of his secondary train of fighting.

He almost laughs as the samurai races towards him. At just the right moment, Martir heaves his strong right hand out of its lowered position and sends a vicious punch flying at Dogura. His attack (10+2[Roll+Agi]) sails past its intended target and carries the running Goron past the samurai as he misses by very little.

Martir Gavin Stats

Hp: 45
Spl: 10
Str: 6
Def: 6
ARM Class: 10
Spi: 1
Agi: 2
Int: 3

Dogura didnt expect the goron to be as fast as he was. The fist came inches from his face, and he had heard the deep sound it made as it passed through the air. No doubt the asassin had immence power, and perhaps Dogura had made the fatal mistake of underestimating his opponant. Dogura lunged the Goron, who seemed currently off balance from the missed attack!
Knowing that as a Goron, he was most likely as hard as a rock, he drove his sword into the asassin with all his might! He only hoped he would survive until tomorrow. This is a warriors life. Its eat sleep, and self defence. Its not going to be easy, but the samurai knew he had to overcome this obstical. One way or the next.

OOC: Sorry to get all mind-changing, but I've decided to scrap stats for the assassin topics. Instead we'll just keep fighting until someone (Martir) caves in
IC:

Martir was already angry, having missed his attack. It did not help that he now had a samurai chasing after him while his back was turned. He did not even have the chance to see the sword flying at his unprotected back. He could feel it prodding into his hard hide, at a lightning speed, and he winced in pain as the wooden blade dug into him. His blood splattered on the ground, creating a small puddle of red liquid, which quickly gave way to a reddish-brown mud.

Outraged at having been caught off guard so easily, Martir swung around viciously, throwing all of his weight int one arm as he hammered his immense fist into Dogura's skull. From the force of the blow, the vagabond was sent flying a few feet, naturally. Dogura landed in the sand, his own blood beginning to have the same effect on the coarse dirt. Martir stood over his fallen target, a wide grin plastered to his large Goron face.

Blood ran down Dogura's face, as his hair was let down. He looked up at the smiling Goron. "Something funny?" Dogura smirked as he stood up, still a bit off balance from the heavy blow. A blow of the calibur could have easily given Dogura a mental injury, capping his most powerful weapon. Dogura regained his balance, and centered his mind, calculating the asassin's next move. Although his eyes were closed, he could clearly scence what was going on around him. He awaited his foe's attack...

Martir was not a merciless Goron; he preferred an honourable battle over a quick one, and he knew that Dogura - being a samurai - would understand. Stepping away from his fallen opponent, the heavyweight assassin allowed Dogura to stand and attack. "I will not attack a man after having knocked him down. I implore you, vagabond, make your move." Martir seriously doubted he had anything to lose by showing mercy to the bleeding man in front of him. However, as he stands waiting for Dogura to attack, he feels an uncontrollable cough attack building up inside him, and his stomach begins to jolt. Hurry up and attack... Ughn..., thought the Goron, wishing dearly that he could lay down at this moment rather than exert himself in a battle.

The samurai stopped short of his attack to examine the Goron. He had never of thought that the Goron would be honorable in battle. He noticed the Goron wincing in pain as well. "You... You're showing me mercy?" Dogura said, as he lowered his weapon. "You dont seem like such a bad guy... A man of honor is a man indeed." Dogura said, as he stepped back a few steppes. "Ill tell you what." Dogura said hoping to strike a deal. "Im sick of being hunted. I dont even know why im being hunted. You tell your boss you killed me, and smashed my head, And I give you medicine for that nasty sicknes." Dogura eyed the Goron carefully, not dropping his guard. "However, if you prefer your death, over such a shameful escape, I understand completely. To fight until death. That is the way of the warrior." Dogura eagerly awaited the Sickly Goron's responce.

The Goron belched disturbingly, a rancid odor escaping his mouth as a result of the unknown virus within him. He seemed appalled by the notion of letting Dogura roam free. He had never let a target escape, especially by his own actions, and he knew that this particular target was of the utmost importance. Calatia will know, thought Martir, gagging as he fidgeted with his soar throat, beginning to hack uncontrollably. "You realize so little, vagabond. 'They' are keeping track of your every move. This was to be the day that your file began to collect dust, never to be updated again. I do not know of their intentions, or the reason behind wanting to put you seven down. I am simply a mercenary involved at the bottom level. This was a promising task that the Government knew they'd need Killtactic Assassination for. If we are successful, sanctions to our unit will resume and all be as it should. But if I falsely testified having defeated you, their files would prove quite the contrast. They would know very easily that I had lied, and then K.A. would be gone forever.

"So you see, I can not let you roam free. Whatever medicine you possess could never undermine this virus. I have tried it all. All I am left with is the possibility that it may get better. Although I don't see how Wolfeye got rid of it...", said Martir, expressing to Dogura that there is no escape. A wild fire shimmers in his eyes, a determination to end the battle and return to his allies. "Now attack me, samurai!"

Dogura sighed. "Its a shame really." Dogura spoke. "I scenced some good in you. But now, I can clearly see that there is no hope for your future." Dogura looked away, and pointed his sword to the goron. "There is great shame in killing those who dont have a purpouse to be murdered. You will shurley rot in the depths of the underworld. Now die!" Dogura dashed in at the Goron, wind ripping through his hair as he moved at a high velocity, he drove the sword toward the Goron's chest, and thrusted with all the might he could muster.

The pitiful final charge. Martir had never encountered this. His landslides were always successful. He considered it a true dishonor to be attacked in such a manner; he rather enjoyed a clean kill - although, crushing an enemy under clusters of immense boulders could hardly be considered "clean". Now, with Dogura rushing at him, Martir was unprepared. He extended his wide hands out towards he blade of the vagabond's sword, planning on grabbing the weapon and disarming the samurai. It had worked in the past, on occasion.

Today, however, it did not. Rather, the fierce blade pierced the Goron's tough hands and continued through to his throat. A sickening scream was heard as the sand was stained with Martir's blood, his hands split open as a result of his terrible mistake. He was fortunate, however, that the thick hide on his palms had slowed the furious pace of Dogura's sword. His throat had not been pierced, and he sighed, knowing he had avoided death. If Dogura were clever, he would no doubt realize that attacking the throat would be the best course of action. Martir, coughing throughout the battle, would eject an extraneous amount of blood, and would doubtlessly die instantly.

Dogura despised violence, but in these dark times, there wasnt much else way to live. He twisted his sword inside the Goron's hands, to make sure his hands were finished. He yanked his sword out, and stood before the Goron. "You are a pitiful asassin." Dogura said, as he thrust his sword into the Goron's skull to end the battle.

A gear in the Goron's head seemed to click. Now, not being a robot from some odd futuristic realm, it was actually a nerve pulsing, but the point remained: something had stricken Martir as insulting. Obviously, it was the "pitiful assassin" comment. Snarling, he fell back with all his weight, landing with a ground-shaking thud! in the desert sand. As Dogura's blade sliced the air where his head had been moments ago, the mercenary let out a cocky "Hah!" and kicked at the samurai, his hefty Goron feet pummeling into the would-be ranger's gut and sending him sprawling to the ground.

Martir stood to his feet, his deep hazel eyes shining red under the glowing sun hanging above Parapa Desert. His arms at his hips, he smirked at the fallen Hylian at his feet, kicking sand over Dogura's leveled form. "I am not the pitiful one here, samurai. It is you who... ah...ah... CHOO!... are the one in need of pity."