His eyesight was only barely fading in--he could see a dark shape on dark ground below--when the cave suddenly went blinding bright. The heat was intense, the light impossible, and he staggered and raised one hand as if to defend himself.

He had no idea what Oliver had done, only that suddenly he could not see at all.

A quick choice faced him, then.

He could continue to strike blindly, and to likely miss and be blinded further. Or he could summon up his own darkness to counteract this light--that seemed wise. Or, lastly, he could first back away and evade any further magic Oliver might be throwing at him.

He chose magic, instinctively, shadow lashing out against the light.

His shadows roiled, encompassing him, focused on his face and eyes: and now, abruptly, he could see again. The painful after-image of the light was present, and everything beyond his shadow was still mostly a whited-out blur, but he wasn't as blind as he had been.

He could still fight, yet.

Round: 3/5
Attempt: Uh. Un... blind?
Defense: --
Injuries: Blind AF lmao

Oliver didn't want to admit it, but he was just about out of tricks.

He'd blinded the Sentinel twice, and the second time, he had learned: shadows were swarming him, making it so he could see again. Oliver had to begrudgingly admit that this had been pretty clever, but it left him at a disadvantage.

He looked around briefly, and seeing nothing else useful nearby, he snatched up one of the pumpkins from the ground.

Then, he chucked it straight for the Sentinel, hoping it would buy him time. For what, he didn't know.

Time to come up with something better, maybe.

Round: 4/5
Attempt: Throw a pumpkin at Sentinel
Defense: --
Injuries: Sore shins

The pumpkin came sailing at him, and he flinched--halberd swinging up, body twisting away to avoid it as best he could. Despite the darkness, he almost didn't see it coming--it came from the blinding white beyond and he barely had time to jerk in reflex.

The pumpkin struck the halberd, shattering, stumbling him back a tad nonetheless with the sheer force of it. He was baffled for a moment, but then learned an even more important lesson--the halberd had hit him when he'd raised it up to block with it. Had that been a stronger blow, and had the blade or spike been pointed toward him, he'd have been badly wounded by his own weapon.

This lesson he rapidly committed to grim memory. It was not a mistake he'd wish to repeat.

Still... no harm really done, and shaking off the pumpkin gore, he began to stride for Oliver.

Round: 4/5
Attempt: Smash/block the pumpkin
Defense: --
Injuries: Half-blind

Oliver grimaced. He didn't have a lot to work with, here, and this was a lesson for him to learn, too. He'd have to be careful in the future; maybe learn some plant magic to help him to actually defend himself.

"Escape" seemed a viable option at this point: he had wings, the Sentinel (he thought) didn't. While Oliver couldn't actively fly, he could jump fairly well with their support, and glide; and so he turned, scrambling and then making a leap for the nearby, crumbled wall.

The sore legs didn't help, so that when he hit the wall it was at chest-height--and he grunted, scrambling at it to try and get on top.

Round: 5/5
Attempt: Flap-jump onto a wall, out of range
Defense: --
Injuries: Sore shins

He had trouble tracking the bird-dog's swift movements, seeing as it was in the bright light beyond his own shadows. But Oliver's black coat of fur and feathers made it at least possible, and the Sentinel turned, skidding as Oliver suddenly leapt into half-flight.

He tried to call upon his magic--his wings--but they didn't come; and he was left stomping up to the crumbled wall after a moment's hesitation.

He could not reach Oliver there, and he stood below, pondering what to do. He could throw the halberd--but that might mean losing it, and it was something only for a real fight. Getting hit with the pointy end was not something for a mere spar, as much as the Sentinel wanted to try it.

He held back.

"These are good lessons," he rasped, at last, settling back into a calmer stance.

Round: 5/5
Attempt: Pursuit
Defense: --
Injuries: Partially blinded

Character: Oliver Age: +62 (62 Cycles) Magic Level: +5 (Master) ROUND 1 Attempt: +14 Penalties: - ROUND 2 Attempt: +14 Penalties: - ROUND 3 Attempt: +20 Penalties: - ROUND 4 Attempt: +14 Penalties: - ROUND 5 Attempt: +14 Penalties: - Total: 143

Character: The Sentinel Age: +3 (3 Cycles) Magic Level: +3 (Brawler) ROUND 1 Attempt: +2 Penalties: - ROUND 2 Attempt: +11 Penalties: - ROUND 3 Attempt: +17 Penalties: - ROUND 4 Attempt: +18 Penalties: - ROUND 5 Attempt: +3 Penalties: - Total: 57

WINNER: Oliver

Oliver didn't realize how tense he was until the Sentinel relaxed back, some, and spoke. He felt his muscles loosen, and had to acknowledge too that he must've been too lazy lately because the soreness was already kicking in.

Damn.

And his poor pumpkin. He eyed it, expression regretful, and decided he'd try to like... regrow it, later, from whatever remained. Which admittedly was only very tiny pieces.

"Um--I'm glad," he answered, settling back a little. "So, I can make light, like this-" and he gestured overhead, struggling to relinquish his hold on Canis's lights. But it wasn't really working; they'd be bright for hours, yet. Oh, well. At least his plants liked light, and heat. "I can make it rain, too. So with magic, someone might mess with your sight, or the ground underfoot--I can grow plants pretty quick, so if I learned how I could probably trip you up with those, too. Thorns, even, maybe," he added, thoughtfully. "If you're all about that spear, you might find it hard to fight if someone's controlling the whole, uhh--battlefield?--with magic. If it helps," and here was sudden inspiration in his tone, "Dad used to make everything dark first. If things are dark, and others can't see, you can fight while they're blind. You could probably learn that, too?" and here, he shrugged.

"Not that Dad went around picking fights, or anything--he wasn't mean, or anything. But he did know how to fight."

Another surge of focus, and this time the wings came: broad flashing blue, false feathers that lifted the Sentinel up like some bizarre dark angel. He lit lightly on the wall upon which Oliver perched, and peered down at him, the wings lingering--weakly, but visibly there.

"It will remember this lesson," he said, ignoring or not noticing the bird-dog's sudden cringe. "To control the battlefield. To know what magic can do. The Master explains that magic is fickle. The body is not." He lifted one hand, looking at it, examining the claws and spines; he then looked back at Oliver.

"But the Sentinel sees no reason not to learn both, perhaps. It is good," he added, with a nod. He stared at Oliver a moment longer, and then in a somewhat more wry voice--with just a hint of humor--he said, "The Sentinel has also learned not to raise the weapon before his face, or it may be smashed into it."

To say the sudden sprouting of wings was a surprise would have been understatement. Oliver flinched back, but he remembered Dragon doing much the same--just... with red wings, instead of blue.

Was the difference meaningful? He didn't know.

"Oh, well--I'm glad I could be helpful," he said, a little unsteadily, staring up at the shape that was so like, and so different from, his father's end form. For a moment he remembered the old Black: a short-haired, square-skulled black mastiff-type dog, one stoic and stolid and reliable. He'd always felt safe with Black around.

With this thing? He was afraid it might outright kill him. It hadn't even really given him a reason for that, and for a moment he felt guilty. It was just... the alien-ness of it. The spines. The eyes. The hints of other that just didn't belong there.

Sadly, he eyed the onyx stone.

"Anyway, I'm glad we met? You can stay as long as you want to," he added, "and visit any time. I can teach you how to grow the plants, if you like. Maybe it'll be a nice way for you to relax."

The Sentinel eyed Oliver, for a moment. He then turned, hopping down from the wall; the wings faded even as they began to fold away.

"I will see this Bone-Reader I have heard about. The Sentinel would know his future." He seemed to have zero consistency--first person, then third; it, and he. Possibly, he didn't care.

He turned, and peered back toward Oliver.

The bird-dog looked... forlorn. He didn't care much about that, but the creature had taught him a few lessons in this short time. Perhaps he would return for more; somehow, it was a pleasing thought that this grove, as unsettling as it was, would be welcome for him to return to.

"It will return, as is necessary," he settled on, at last.