Ramses' expression was firm and stern when the man opened the door but at the question he cocked his head ever so slightly. He wasn't sure what he was asking, having not noticed the spreading of a rash. He had a half a mind to find out but his mission was more important than his curiosity.

"Archelaus Ravensbornson," he stated, standing tall and looking intently into the eyes of the man before him. "My name is Ramses Oziason. The Gods have called me to be the witch doctor since I was a young boy and I will not let the shifting of the Coheed tribes from disrupting the will of the Gods. The position of witch doctor is mine to hold, not yours."

He noticed the young girl in the room behind Archelaus but Ramses was not to be deterred. With a long and vicious looking dagger held tightly in his fist, he would be ready if the man decided to fight. "It is your choice to either step down peacefully or violently, but either way, the position of Witch Doctor will be mine as the Gods have commanded."

This was not usual. The position of Witch Doctor was one that had never once, to Ramses knowledge anyway, been taken by combat. Nearly everything else in Coheed was solved this way but not for the witch doctor. As such, Archelaus wasn't the only one who seemed confused. Many of the people observing the confrontation looked equally puzzled. Yet, times had changed and if one wanted to survive, nay, thrive, then adaptation to this new world was the only way to do so.

As the blonde man stepped back into his hut to grab a weapon, Ramses stepped back away from the hut, people moving out of his way and creating a makeshift arena for the two men to do battle. With the dagger in hand, a short sword attached to his hip, another dagger in his boot, and a single bottle of unknown substance though it might later be revealed to be a peppery mixture, it was the knowledge of the gods' will that was what provided Ramses with the most courage. Yes, he was sure he could best Archelaus physically but with the gods in support of him, he could not fail.

He stood at the ready, dagger held in a preparatory stance as he waited for Archelaus to come out to meet him.

Ramses laughed at the fraud's words. He had not been chosen by the gods. He'd been chosen by a man to take this position. Where Archelaus thought he had the right to such a sacred position was beyond him. He'd not been trained in this role for his whole life the way that Ramses had. "My last chance? It is you who has the opportunity to step away peacefully and relinquish your title that was given to you by man. I cannot and will not 'back down' from the role the gods have given me."

Ramses would indeed give Archelaus a brief moment to reconsider. If he did, then wonderful. If he did not, Ramses would pull the short sword from his hip and move towards the man, taking the first swing of his weapon to aim at the man's shoulder. First blood. Death didn't need to be the outcome but Ramses would go there if need be.

While Ramses had dexterity on his side, giving him uncanny accuracy, Archelaus clearly had speed which he recognized from the first swipe from the man. It would be a fairly even match. Except, of course, that the gods were on the side of Ramses, no doubt about that.

His first swipe was a miss but he had expected that. They were still in prime condition, full energy. Much the same, Ramses was able to pull his arm away just in time to avoid the swing of the tomahawk from making contact with his arm. He used the action to allow himself to twist and crouch, first swiping at Archelaus' thighs with the sword while at the same time his other hand tossed the dagger with practiced skill and his enhancement as he finished the circle, aiming at the man's belly.

Unfortunately for Ramses, his swipe met air as Archelaus dashed away. Coward. It didn't matter than the man was using the tools he had at his disposal, Ramses chose to see the act of moving out of reach as an act of cowardice regardless of what it really was. He never took his eyes off of the man as Archelaus moved back in, he shifted out of the way as the weapon and moved to grab the man's wrist, tugging him down onto the ground. If successful he'd then move to stomp down on the man's face with enough force to hopefully break the nose and issue first blood.

Speed, once again, was Archelaus' advantage as he grabbed Ramses boot. Ramses, the rightful witch doctor, rolled with the twist to avoid a break and landed on the ground as well though he did so in a forward roll and as his backside hit the ground he aimed a kick with his free foot at Archelaus' jaw, hoping to land that desperately needed blow. Whether or not he managed to make contact and break skin he didn't wait to see. Now laying in opposite direction to Arch, the man's feet by Ramses' head he moved to grab the Arch's legs, wrapping his arms around both knees and attempted to bite the man's shin. Again, hopefully hard enough to draw blood.