Piercing through again. Surrounded. Five well armoured men on all sides. Delighted by it. A riddle to be solved. No time to think. A storm of his own making. A problem of his own forming. Not isolated entirely to him. Evoking action in those around him.
"PROTECT THE KING!" He heard them shout.
"FORWARDDDDD! WE FOLLOW THE KING'S CHARGE!" Verdant howled, and a thousand Patrick men roared with him.
Oliver ducked again. He tried a counterattack. Was made to abort it prematurely, as another blade threatened to come for his side. A spin, and then a hop onto one leg, barely freeing himself from the steel's reach. Another rush. So delicately did he walk that line between life and death. Each time, he gave his opponent an opportunity. He made a sacrifice of his own strength, and the Gods howled in approval for it. They presented him with more than he already had.
