Keri
```diff
- "Heh, fool" -
```
The knight had played right into his hand, by dropping his attack his foe had become more concerned with dealing with the automata, just the opening he needed. Swiftly he rushed forward and undoubtedly the knight would take a swing, at a diagonal no doubt, but rather than dodge sideways or back, he ducked low and dodged *Toward* The knight, for the sword was so long that it created a weak spot, the blade could not reach the knight's feet unless he were to lift his hand above his head in a position that would not allow for very adept strikes and should not be possible if the knight had already committed himself to one strike, the knight of course could back step, but Cumhall only needed **One good strike**.
His right arm drew back a complete 180 degrees, a loud mechanical whirr began and then,
``` CRACKOOM ```
It snapped forward so fast it was likely to injure the eardrums of anyone close by, the arm tore free from his body from the sheer force and rocketed with the the speed of a bullet straight into the knight's chest.
Wilfredo
The knight does not falter in the face of danger.
The knight does not falter as he sees the two split.
The knight does not falter as a conclusion is met — that he has fallen for bait.
The knight does not falter as Cumhall approaches, nor as Tabby retreats.
The knight does not falter, and does not so much as mutter or breathe a single complaint.
The knight does not falter under any circumstances, and maintains a level head
For it is a dutiful Right Hand, and is not to feel such things as incollegial, volatile *Emotion.* 

No, the knight remains calm, its peering eyes of crimson wide-open, its stance not faltering as it witnesses Cumhall charge forth. Its blade had sheathed the instance after it had released its swing towards the drone, and would remain steady within that sheathe as Cumhall approached. There would be no panic, no alarm, and not a single impulsive motion in reaction to his hastened approach. The knight's eyes rather remained affixed on his form, watching each and every twitch of his motion as he approached closer and closer, its dutiful Right Hand still resting calmly about the handle of its blade.
_ _

A dodge downwards from its adversary, and the knight, without having yet budged its sword from its holster, shifts its footwork, its stance shifting in a descending motion. Its fingers furled about the blade, it prepared to unsheathe its blade in an upwards slash that originated from a far, downwards trajectory. The distance between itself and Cumhall combined with the immense speed and dexterity that the knight possessed with its silver blade — its single slash towards the drone consuming no more than a fraction of a second, and the following sheathing of the blade after such a slash being equally as swift — granted the knight the meager distance it required to raise its guard, and to prepare a counterattack. **It would not recklessly slash diagonally at Cumhall as he had expected, and remained calm as he approached, preparing for the moment that he would enter the bare blade's range.**

Cumhall had made a dangerous assumption — that the prayer had a *Set range of four meters,* And not that it could rather reach *Up to* Four meters. Indeed, *The latter was the truth in this circumstance.* Even further... The prayer was not required to be active at all times.

`The closer he grew, the further he buried himself within the effective range of the knight's instantaneously lethal slash.`

The silver blade of a Right Hand is a representation of their Duty, and oft to those who closely cling to the Arueian Order of Knighthood make this very blade their object of prayer. It is said that a skilled swordsman makes a blade an extension of their body. Yet for this Eclipse Knight, this sword had not just been made an extension of its silver-clad body, but an extension of its *Anima — its very **Soul.*** The moment of time it was granted to backstep, it would instead use to *Counterattack.* Its left hand at the rear of the sheathe, it tips the handle of the blade **Downwards,** Its posture shifting in coordination, and its right hand gripped tightly in preparation for a powerful motion that would burst downwards from the sheathe, pivoting into a lethal, bloodless **Upwards slash** With the silvered blade, aimed to lethally intercept Cumhall's technologically-enhanced punch. ***The sword is mightier than the—***

***`PTIN—K!`***

In that moment of focus, it had broken its *Transmundane eyes* From Tabby, and she capitalized — her crossbow, infused with flames, struck the knight in its knee, and broke the careful stance and balance it had built to crushingly counter Cumhall's onwards approach. The blade is not leased from its sheath, the attack is not followed-through, and the knight is forced into a stumble, incapable of stopping Cumhall from releasing the enhanced punch, his **Fist colliding momentously with the knight's silver breastplate.**

__***﻿ＣＲＡＳＨ***__

The knight is sent hurtling backwards, the extreme momentum of Cumhall's fist transferring throughout the knight's breastplate and across his body, brutally denting the metal and likely severely damaging the tissue beneath. The knight is flung a shorter distance of about ~1.5 meters, rolling across the ground, before skidding to a stop — slamming its armored right hand into the ground to slow its backwards motion and to regain an upright stance. Clearly damaged, yet not entirely incapacitated, the knight slowly rose to its feet, placing its hand back atop its blade's handle, locking eyes with the enemy opposite itself. It would not let the extent of the damage done to itself be revealed, and would remain steadfast even after the blow, **Preparing itself to block yet another offensive.** Tabby's follow-up bolt misses as a result due to its displacement, and the knight, glancing in her direction, seems more aware of her position on the battlefield.
Vernon
*That idiot nearly got himself killed..!* Tabby recognizes, calling out. "Back the hell up! You're about to get a one-way all-expenses paid trip to the Nine Hells!!"

She readies another two shots instantaneously, thanks to her *Repeating Shot*-infused crossbow; the embers of the smite still lingering and flickering with an incredibly intensity — one aiming to burn and keep burning until the job is done.

Tabby decides to play a bit of a game, stepping a few more paces back and shooting her two shots as apart of her *Attack* And *Extra Attack*, aiming one directly for the knight's left shoulder — knowing full well that it would be very unlikely to actually make contact. With this in mind, Tabby additionally strikes for the left *Thigh*, hoping that it would put Otaaraa in a very unfavorable position to deflect both at the same time, the arcane energy soaring towards their mark as Tabby prays that she didn't screw up, or that Cumhall can close the distance and make a distraction for her sniper-shots. *C'mon... C'mon..*

With her action taken, Tabby blurts out her strategy — not like the knight could do much to stop it if it came to fruition.

"Do what I'm doing! If we both take turns shooting from a safe distance they'll have to pick a target and leave themselve vulnerable to the other!!"

After finishing her train of thought, Tabby is forced to *End her Turn*.