Michael
The immortal cocked an eyebrow at the dragon's contemplative growl before it dove back under the surface, part of him wondering if Oren was just playing around or if she was still mad at him. Either way, this was proving to be at least a little amusing. As she dived back into the earth, the immortal figured that he might as well try, at least a little. With that in mind, Michael stilled himself entirely, staff relaxing in his grip as he let his senses wander, the lazy breeze drifting through the woods, the musty scent that hit the air as Breeze acted under the influence of the drugged meat, the slight shifting of the ground beneath him, the vibrations marking the passage of something massive.
Hmm. She's pretty quiet for something that big. Judging by her speed, it sounds like she's learned her lesson about bum-rushing me too. Well, this could be an interesting fight.
Realizing that Oren was coming up from directly underneath him, Michael waited, remaining completely still until the last possible moment. When the moment was upon him, however, he moved with speed and grace that shouldn't have been possible under the circumstances. Putting aside the temptation to turn the step into one of those silly combat spins that always left your back wide open, Michael stepped aside just as Oren burst from the ground, slipping away before bringing the staff around once more, extending it out to its fullest length at the last second to send the hook slamming into one of her numerous eyes.