Oh, this was-... bad.

He'd picked himself back up again, and he was rushing her--not as quickly as he'd have liked, perhaps, and there was still a gap between them, but Obieth shifted tack quickly to plan b.

You want to head me off, she thought frantically, trying to shove her thoughts into his mind--to make him think, somehow, in that fraction of a second, that going around the rock the other way was best. It was not a very detailed concept--just a strong misdirection, an attempt to make him think to go one way while she, herself, knew which way he'd go and could respond accordingly (by running in the opposite direction).

She hadn't thought about what to do next, but trying her paw at the winds again was a bad idea: if she failed, he'd come barrelling into her and in a real fight, it would all be over. Don't rely on magic alone, she reminded herself, pulling back behind the stone.

Round: 4/?
Attempt: Trick the Sentinel into running the wrong way
Defense: a rock??
Injuries:

The Sentinel did not recognize the intrusion of magic, this time, and though it was subtle it served its purpose. He changed direction mid-stride. A brief near-stumble and he was heading for the other side of the boulder, instead, fully expecting her (as his "instinct," he thought, had just warned him) to try and run out on that side.

He ran at full tilt, a bipedal sprint hunching him forward--he was close to simply dropping to all fours, abandoning the halberd in favor of four-legged, faster pursuit. But he didn't need to, yet--right?--because he'd head her off before she could get out into the open.

Round: 5/?
Attempt: Head "Obieth" off at the "pass"
Defense: --
Injuries: sore ribs

Oh hell- Wait! Wait, no, that had worked! The charging, nine foot tall brute suddenly shifted direction to bolt the other way around the rock.

Triumph hissed through her heart.

She had done it-! Yes, it had been magic, but rather than simply striking like a feral beast, she had used tactics and cover to aid her. I'm doing it, Cain, she thought savagely, joy flaring through her, and she turned the other way. Let him run out, past the boulder and away; she bolted the way he'd come, turning to come around behind him, to stare at his back and attempt again to unleash her magic on him.

Obieth had time to focus, now: to still her breathing as the Sentinel skidded to a halt. To concentrate on magic as he turned, this way and that, realizing that she was not, in fact, running out before him. To form her spell, to direct the air itself, to weave and to control it as he turned--his ghostlight eyes settling on her in the dark.

She unleashed it, then: to crush the air down above him, to sweep it out from beneath him, to slam him down and pin him there.

Round: 5/?
Attempt: Smoosh Sentinel
Defense: literally still a rock
Injuries:

The sight of only empty rock before him had left him briefly puzzled. The serpentine curl of Obieth's oily touch receding from his mind went unnoticed. He knew only that he had--for some strange reason--expected her to come this way, in fact been certain of it, and now he was left standing out in the open alone.

He turned.

Searched, for a fraction of an instant, spotted her--his gaze locking onto her gleaming teal against the dark. Magic, his subconscious warned him, an instant before it came crashing down for him. He reached for his strongest defense--the one that would tire him, the one that would grasp at the strings of magic as well as reflexes--to protect him.

The Sentinel dropped into a half-crouch, and he felt the sudden barrage of power around him: the weight of Obieth's magic smashing down, yet abruptly repelled by his own--and then he was in motion again, breaking once more into a sprint toward the Valkcat.

Round: 6/?
Attempt: uno reverso Obieth's magic
Defense: --
Injuries: sore ribs

She'd been so certain her magic had worked--especially when the Sentinel dropped down, as if struggling against a weight (or bracing for attack?). When a sudden weight pressed into her from above, then, she staggered with eyes sprung wide, shocked--it had backfired?!

She knew nothing of the Sentinel's own ability to reflect such magic; instead she nearly fell, staggering, held firmly in place by his power.

And--haha, oh no--he was rushing toward her yet again. He was, she reflected (in a brief moment of panic) implacable; no matter what she did, what she tried, a moment later he'd be charging right for her again. So far she'd managed to keep him at bay, but it was coming down to endurance and to luck: who would manage the first strike? Who would run out of energy--be it magical or physical--first..?

For the first time, she began to lose her will to fight--to wish she wasn't doing questionable almost-battle (apparently a no contact sport today) with this brutish beast. Resentment, then bitter anger, flared in her--and she wound it, revelled in it, twisted it toward the incoming hound.

High pressure behind. Low ahead. She had practiced, with this magic: it would--it should--cause air to shove for his legs, to flip him off his feet, to topple him backwards against the rock.

Round: 6/?
Attempt: knock the Sentinel off his feet
Defense:
Injuries:

No magic came, this time, and the Sentinel lurched back into a charge. He ran for her, noting as he came that she didn't move, didn't cast magic--not that hit him, anyway--and he launched himself for her, a powerful thrust of legs that threw him down at her smaller body.

He was not intending--not deliberately, anyway--to cause her any real harm; but he did intend to land on her, to get a grip or send her flying, depending on how she moved (if at all) when he struck. If he could, he'd simply pin her with his weight and grapple for her--a questionable maneuver against a user of magic, but neither of them had yet to strike a single decisive blow.

Round: 7/?
Attempt: tackle Obieth
Defense: --
Injuries: sore ribs

Ahh fuck-
Teal eyes sprang wide, and Obieth did her best to unleash a last-minute twist of magic--something to yank the Sentinel out of reality, for a moment, at least long enough for her to spring out of the way.

Her spell burst forth, tearing that hole open in reality and yanking her target through it, just before impact: Obieth leapt aside, claws scrabbling at the rock and eyes wide, and then turned back.

Don't rely on your magic, she chided herself, again--and prepared to leap for the Sentinel, her claws out and fangs, finally, ready.

Round: 7/?
Attempt: Remove the Sentinel from reality and get out of the way to let him own himself with a fat faceplant (please)
Defense:
Injuries:

He was in the Void, again--and then out, the magic lasting only a moment this time weakening?
Then he was falling, before he could react--hitting the ground chest-first, the wind knocked from him, his spread-eagle arms (so prepared to grab the cat) doing nothing to break his fall. His stone cracked against the ground, pain searing through his ribs. It wasn't a real injury, but it still hurt to faceplant rock like this.

He rolled--clumsily--away, arm-spikes clashing against the rock, rising up to ward him preemptively against a strike. It wouldn't do much against magic, and he didn't particularly expect a physical attack now from Obieth--but it was reflex, and it was the smart thing to do.

Round: 8/?
Attempt: roll away!
Defense: --
Injuries: sore ribs

The moment he reappeared, she was in motion--leaping for him, dark fangs bared, claws unsheathed. Her heart hammered in her chest, adrenaline driving her. She was jumping, she knew, for something larger and likely stronger than she was; someone well-trained in actual physical combat.

Paws struck--rock. Bare rock.

The Valkhound stumbled, finding her pounce missing its mark; the Sentinel had rolled, clumsily (particularly with those arm-spikes) but quickly enough to avoid her hit. She hissed, and started for him again--if she could hit before he hit her, first.

Round: 8/?
Attempt: Jump for Sentinel's neck (this will miss either way with his avoidance roll)
Defense:
Injuries:

He'd lost his halberd, in the fall--he didn't quite know where it was. The black cat was rushing him. A missed pounce, a charge--the Sentinel glanced to her.

And whipped his arm out to intercept, spines first, for her body (and her face).

Her own momentum--forward, toward him--combined with his powerful arm-strike smashed into her, and he felt the spikes grip flesh and then that flesh yield, his hit ripping three bloodied lines along her face and chest. He saw--and smelled--Oil spill out, felt her flinch and jerk away in pain.

It was an injury, a wound--not as bad as it could have been, but injury nonetheless--and the Sentinel rolled the other way, searching for his halberd. "It is done," he declared, and hoped that she would agree with him: he did not want either of them truly harmed.

He had been told not to do that. Judging by the way she withdrew, shaking herself and flinching, she would not argue the topic.

Round: 9/?
Attempt: smash into Obieth with arm-spines
Defense: --
Injuries: sore ribs

i checked with myself to get permission to godemote obieth and i said yes