Raphael watched another wound heal that he had just caused. It had been a good blow, but the cuts on the other Dragonborn's body seemed to close faster than he could open them. He could feel his powers weaken. The battle seemed to have lasted forever.
In a quick pause he dared to look over his shoulder. It was just in time to see the body of Gabriel hit the ground. With terror he could see the grinning face of that horned bastard. He looked further to the right where he could spot Uriel. The look on the Warden's face told him what he already knew. Only Bahamut himself could turn this battle now. Without Michael's Runepriest magic and minotaur strength and the unwithering, unstoppable power of a fanatic like Gabriel, it was only a question of time until the non-believers would wear them down.
Raphael's muscles tensioned as his mind slowly realised their situation. The sword slowly sinking towards the ground, he reflected on the last few minutes. What had happened? They were used to fight fanatic fighters who would rush towards them, but these combatants withdrew to re-organise. Usually their opponents deserved to die and fought for their lives, but these fought to find out who is the better team. They had used cunning instead of desperate last stands, they had fought together instead of trying to just save their own lives.
Michael looked up to the sky. They didn't know how to fight such fights! That was not what they had trained for. He searched the sky for a sign to find out whether Bahamut would forgive them? He slowly looked at Uriel who understood and with his head lowered to his chest, nodded. Rapahel's head turned and he could see the Dragonborn's sword being raised for another attack and the archeress' bow being prepared for another shot. He lowered his sword and raised his left hand to signal his opponent to stop.
"In Bahamut's name, we yield."
[I bow my head to Kirk who was able to stop my winning spree!]