She was getting back to her feet.

Unbelievable, but there it was: and he did not know if she would collapse, a moment later, or if she would lurch back into brute-horned combat.

He chose to play it safe, for now, as much as he preferred a head-on style: he was learning the hard way (through first the bull, and now this) that such things were not always the best decision. That didn't mean he was pleased at having to run away.

But he took his defensive stance, ready to brace himself for... whatever came next.

Would he need it? Only time would tell.

Round: 6/?
Attempt:
Defense: --
Injuries: sore ribs, ragged tear wounds across chest and abdomen

...And judging by that sudden roar--as dimmed as it was--there would not be much of that time.

Unlike Nemesis--a stranger to Draco, he thought--he knew Draconua. He had spoken with her. He had seen her rage--seen her get stuck in the aperture and writhe and claw and attempt to fight the tunnel itself. He had not seen her magic all that much, but he knew what it could do, knew that she held power that even Master Vargas was hesitant to provoke.

And so when she lashed out, when the first of the ground began to shake and tremble, the Sentinel widened his eyes--and turned to run. It was not a strong run--it was a staggering limp, half buckled over, as the ground thrust up and shattered behind him. The halberd he used as a cane, a support, jamming its haft-butt into the dirt with every step. His breath came wheezing in his own ears, his many eyes locked firmly upon the far side of the arena. If only he could get there-... He pitied Nemesis, briefly, surprisingly.

He even spared a glance back. Hesitated. Would she be caught in the shattering earth-? Crushed, mauled, chewed by stone? If he could carry her--perhaps he would have. It was one thing to lose a battle, but this-...

...But no, she had not yet been struck. And the way the arena floor rippled and dislodged itself in massive, heaving shards--the way gaps opened in the ground, sand rushing down to fill the holes--it was only a matter of time before it caught one of them.

The Sentinel spared her a warning: "It must... flee. They must... both flee." And then he looked forward again, and continued his hunched-over run.

@Draconua

The arena was shifting. Churning beneath her will, becoming an entirely new, barely-navigable shape. Draconua did not pity the mysterious clean-up crew that would have to take care of this mess between matches...

No, she cackled as she leapt from the stands entirely. Her wings snapped out as she landed atop a new spike of stone, steadying her with cursory flapping and maneuvering. Claws curled against the very edges of her perch, and she reached for the corrupted soil, the Oil that the Sentinel had shed across it and continued to do so.

It drew to a point, slithering from the earth in the form of a disgusting tentacle large enough to snare either one of them if they'd been unfortunate enough to pass by, and large enough to hurl them either into the sky or into a dark pit.

Or, if it felt like being particularly brutal, slam them mercilessly against the rocks.

Winner's choice.

Just to make sure it's clear! Fight rolls should be posted first, and then hazard avoidance rolls should be posted second! :D

@Nemesis

Content Warning
This post contains potentially sensitive material:

strong language

gore

Nemesis

The Sentinel didn't come at her. She just stood there, like a complete maniac, losing blood like a stuck pig (a fairly apt comparison, at the moment). Nemesis's legs trembled, but she held her knees firm, locked in place.

He could at least say something, right, so she would know where he was so she could beat his ass--

As it was, with all of the bloodloss and such, it was a miracle that she was still standing. And standing she certainly was, even if that was about all she could manage.

As crazy as it sounded, she was even starting to feel more present. Maybe the blood had clotted somewhat, and the wound wasn't gushing quite so badly. Maybe she actually could still fight. It was insane, and it certainly didn't make any sense. Surely it was the lack of oxygen-rich juice reaching her brain making her think that she wasn't dying when she absolutely was.

Then again, this is the Tonka Trunk we're talking about.

{ FIGHT STATISTICS }

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S E N T I N E L v. N E M E S I S

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ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN

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{ ATTEMPT }

~ STAY STANDING!! NEVER GIVE UP!!

{ DEFENSES }

~ BRO WE'RE BARELY STANDING...

{ INJURIES }

~T'IS ONLY A FLESH WOUND (scratch on flank)

~RHINO ON A STICK (deep puncture wound)

~SIGNIFICANT BLOOD LOSS

~SCRATCHES/BRUISING ALONG BODY

Content Warning
This post contains potentially sensitive material:

strong language

Nemesis

Then she heard him, finally, among the chaos. Run, Sentinel called out, flee, save yourself and all that. Nemesis let out a snort, and ears turning toward him.

Then, the second-biggest motherfucker she had ever seen descended upon the arena, massive jaws parting with a sneering laugh. She had not noticed Draconua before, but now it was pretty hard to miss her. Considering the other batshit insane dragons she had known in the past, maybe "running" wasn't a terrible idea.

Part of her did want to charge right at the source of the arena being torn to shreds. The thing that stopped her? Beyond Dracouna, behind the haze of spots that dotted her eyes, Nemesis saw her baby girl in the stands. Little Hestia called out words that were completely drowned out by the sound of the roaring crowd and sundered earth.

Hell no. She wasn't dying today, not while her baby was watching. So she broke into a charge, careening toward the Sentinel, toward the exit, away from all of the hell that was breaking loose.

{ FIGHT STATISTICS }

---

S E N T I N E L v. N E M E S I S

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ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN

---

{ ATTEMPT }

~ GET THE FUCK OUTTA THERE

@Sentinel

He turned, glancing back. She was running, heeding his warning-... how was she running? Even in his haze, his pain, he was impressed. Her fortitude was astonishing. Her strength, amazing. It was probably a shame she was not of the Forge--he didn't really think that way, himself, so he couldn't really be certain. But he did know that if one of them did not drop soon, it might be him.

It might be him in a half a second, anyway.

So he chucked his spear after her--a wild throw, not inaccurate but desperate, and then (without watching to see whether it would hit) dropped to all fours to continue to run away. If it hit, it might tear through her a second time--it wouldn't do the damage the impale from beneath had done, but it might make her bleed out that much more quickly. He could only hope.

They seemed to be heading in opposite directions now, but the churning earth was over, and so he took solace in the fact that she would at least not die to Draconua's magic. Him-? If that flailing limb now erupting so close by him hit, it would squeeze him into submission (or worse) and it would all be over.

Round: 7/?
Attempt: Man... just... throw the spear?!
Defense: --
Injuries: sore ribs, ragged tear wounds across chest and abdomen

And now for the sink-or-swim, clinch moment of these next few seconds: Nemesis had again avoided Draconua's strike, but that flailing, oily limb was far too close for comfort, and slamming down toward him.

The Sentinel shifted, his jaw hanging open now, gasping for air as he scrambled on all fours. He was faster this way--built for it, really, and was it some pride or presumption that kept him fighting on two? -but the tentacle was lurching for him at impossible speeds, following his own trail of dripping Oil.

He shifted direction as fast as he could, skidding in the arena dirt, leaving dust behind him as he zigged and zagged--and heard (and felt!) a heavy, wet slap behind him in the sand.

Wheeze, stumble, gasp, relief mixing with dread--what would come next-?

He skidded to a shaking halt and turned back to see if he were safe--and to watch for the next hint of danger.

@Draconua (sorry, these two are making her earn her wages huh)

The valkhound's head jerked side to side, swiveling as if it were on a ball joint to keep her eyes on the Sentinel and Nemesis as they navigated their treacherous new field of combat. Nemean egged her on from behind, shrieking for "MORE, MORE, MORE, GET 'EM!"

Despite all odds—blood loss, a myriad of dangerous spectacle, Draconua's own influence—they still endured. She'd have found it impressive if it weren't so infuriating to see.

Beady black eyes glared down her snout, tracing the vast amounts of Oil spattering the ground; it had either been shed by the Sentinel, previous combatants, or leeched from the soil by its rumbling. It was flammable nonethless.

Draconua lurched backward, and then forward, teetering over the edge of her perch to leap onto another. Steadying herself again, looming over the pit, she howled. "OUTRUN THIS!"

This trailed off into roaring fire, its violent purple stream darting for the nearest smattering of Oil. A muffled pop! punctuated its explosive ignition, as did a steaming hiss; and from there, the accursed flames jumped from puddle to puddle, sparking embers and smoldering ashes falling into black fissures and causing them to blitz into flame.

Hellfire swallowed the ground, blasting through anything it could in ever-shifting clots.

Th-third time's the ch-charm... ? Right??
@Nemesis

Content Warning
This post contains potentially sensitive material:

strong language

gore

Nemesis

Nemesis was running, a powerhouse of momentum that could not be stopped so easily: even if she lost consciousness, her body would still be lurching forward-- even if her limbs were knocked out from underneath her, she'd still tumble or slide a good few more feet-- and that made it impossible to veer out of the path of the spear that was suddenly thrown her way.

She flicked her head, tossing her horns to try and knock the spear off trajectory. The blade smashed against her gemstone, one of the prongs slicing just above her eye as she threw her head back, sending it through the air with a jarring rattle to her skull.

Fuck, though, that was-- the least of her problems right now.

{ FIGHT STATISTICS }

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S E N T I N E L v. N E M E S I S

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ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT

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{ ATTEMPT }

~ DEFLECT THE SPEAR

{ DEFENSES }

~ BRO WE'RE BARELY STANDING...

{ INJURIES }

~T'IS ONLY A FLESH WOUND (scratch on flank)

~RHINO ON A STICK (deep puncture wound)

~SIGNIFICANT BLOOD LOSS

~SCRATCHES/BRUISING ALONG BODY

Content Warning
This post contains potentially sensitive material:

strong language

gore

Nemesis

A sickly heat swelled and burst through the air, cloying and clinging like acid to everything it could touch, bleeding through the air she huffed in with each breath as she raced away from the popping roar of an inferno she did not look back to see.

Fire. It was so painfully familiar to her: a massive dragon, and a heat so strong that it overpowered even the heat of Nemesis's own sweating, feverish girth. She ran from it now, though part of her was furious, and as the black flame spread viciously through the arena, she knew she could only hope to get away. Get out of the arena, survive, maybe make a way out so the Sentinel could flee to safety as well.

Her path led her toward the stone door that they had come through: the one that was now closed. She didn't think better of it, in fact, she didn't think at all as she barreled towards it like a meteor. She was trapped in her own momentum, the trajectory giving her no choice but impact.

And it was there, with a sick crunch, that she hit the door, and that the roar of flames followed, swallowing her in a massive burst of crackling hellfire that seemed to feed on her blood. It consumed her body, devouring hastily, though her stone still burned with her magic and would soon try to salvage what it could.

{ FIGHT STATISTICS }

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S E N T I N E L v. N E M E S I S

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ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT

---

{ ATTEMPT }

~ SMASH THROUGH THE STONE DOOR

@The Sentinel we're FREE after your rolls.......... thank you for the dramatics everyone
edit: lmao i forgot: exit to chrysalis