Nove just barely avoided the Rat-Orge’s knee-jerk swat and even still the backlash of  the blow had sented him sprawling back head-over-heels.  He came to a halt after a sluggish moment. With it, the disappointment and frustration of his weakness rushed in like a great wind. He brought his forearms crashing into the earth with a huff as he readied for his counterattack. 

He had others to think of. Others that could support him and vice-versa. But if he was too weak to even accomplish his first rift-dive than of what use was he to anyone?  [i]Dammit! Sir Siph, said go low and the top would follow. But what happens when the top is whipping ass on the way down?[/i]

 With a stab to the earth, Nove pulled himself up to his feet and charged forward to attack once more. This time his gaze darted around for anything he could take advantage of; anything that could make taking the giant down easier. 

... But was it pointless? 

Everyone was attacking at once. It was chaos on the field and he didn’t want to add to it. So he skidded to a stop and begin to really put together the pieces to everyone’s individual actions. Was there a method to the madness here? And where was Sir Siph at? How was he taking the downpour of enemies, comrades, and other complexities on the field. Nove felt like he should look to the greats for inspiration. 

[center][i]Then he seen it.[/i][/center]

Grendrick fighting with all his might. It was a source of fuel and realization; now he [i]knew[/i] that there was no plan. At the moment, all they had were their guts and vigor. So he trusted in those feelings, deciding to pour all his power into helping Grendrick. He had faith that some small part of the Lupine would remember him, would choose not to competently destroy him. He just had to wait for an opening to strike was all.