Candles in the Wind - Part 1

"Gurhh…" the sword ran across Oliver's chest, drawing blood. It took all his efforts not to shout any louder than that. He took the blow well enough, but a wound was a wound. It didn't matter how he tolerated it, the damage was what counted, and he'd allowed the blow to land strongly enough to break through chainmail… and yet, not strongly enough to go much further than his skin.

He looked to the Rogue Commandant's feet, and saw one just of alignment. His right foot. The slightest stumble, the slightest step back, and yet, that was all that it required. He was a cannon of a man, the perfect sort of creature for the ships that he commanded. But cannons needed their base in order to be accurate, and Oliver had robbed him of it.