[center][h3][color=C0392B]Rudolf Sagramore[/color][/h3][/center]

[color=c0392b]"Works for me,"[/color] Rudolf breathed, voice thick with relief as he about-faced more or less in time with the third and fourth cracks of Eliane's firearm. [color=c0392b]"C'mon, Fey! Let's cut 'em down!"[/color] he barked, pushing to the fore where the Valheimr, rallying at the sight of one of their leaders surviving the cataclysmic fireball and still fighting, had begun to congregate again. The back half of the Kirins had more or less locked her down for the moment, sure, but unless they capitalized her battlefield presence alone would end up locking [i]them[/i] down. The rank-and-filed would be given enough breathing room to regroup, and encircle.

If that happened, they were as good as toast.

So he surged forth, into the lesser of two evils. Esben, Eliane, Galahad, they all knew what they were doing. With Izayoi and Chisaki more or less taken care of and being pulled out of the fray... All that was left was rote repetitions. Those were what he was good at.

Parry, stab, slice, shove. Never lose threat, never lose momentum. Descend upon them like a storm, and your strikes will boom like thunder. Between his force and Robin's speed, whichever openings one Edrenian couldn't find the other would pry open in short order. The stark contrast in styles, rhythm, and attacks would wear most anyone Valheim could field short of the aforementioned Captain far behind down.