"I think I… might get a bit what yer talking about," Firyr said.
"Let us see, then," Oliver said.
This time, Firyr came at him more cautiously. He poked forward with his spear, as he circled Oliver, rather than committing to an all out attacking. His eyes tracked even the slightest of movement from Oliver, from the twitching of his fingers, to batting of his eyes in a slow blink.
Oliver gave him some feints of his own, to play with and consider, in the efforts of trying to build that image of the battlefield in Firyr. When Firyr thought himself to be of sound understanding, he came rushing forward, in an attack more crisp than the last. A single potent thrust, straight up the middle.
