"I would not be nearly as effective a weapon as I am now," Oliver said. It was not mere self-deprecation. He had other skills to rely on, or so he told himself. He'd trained strategy for all those years, there was no reason that he needed to be at the front of every battle, even if that was what he often ended up doing, given the excessive advantage that the strength differential between him and his opponents gave him.
"…And if I was there, I would not have noticed this," Oliver continued after a moment. The bowing in the centre – it should have stopped moments before. The central pushing was excessive. Men, like metal, could not have their lines bowed infinitely. After a time, it would snap. Then why did these shield wielders still stand strong? Why had their bending not even increased? They were standing rigid.
"URAHHH!" Firyr cried, joining the attack towards the middle, tossing men back.
