Where he'd slain that Violet Commandant, the enemy began to cave, taking steps inwards in order to be free of the threat. It was a pressure that seemed slight, but it built, and built, and it was felt all the way to the centre, and the slightest pulling on a string that was already too taut.
"URAHHH!" Came the cry of the old General. His long white beard was speckled with blood. He did not seem like the type to Oliver to lead the battle from the front, but it was hard to tell now with the way he wielded his glaive. With that should, he struck down a Rogue Commandant that he'd been struggling with, out of an encirclement of three, and with his falling, the tide began to once more push overwhelming in the Stormfront favour.
