Raven stepped forward, his gaze scanning each of his summoned allies.
"Formation's simple," he said, voice level. "We anchor in a T—Seneschal on mid-left. You're the shield and the lifeline."
The Ironbark Seneschal dipped its helm. Roots crackled underfoot as it shifted into position.
"I'll hold center," Raven continued. "Mobile. Pivot point. Whoever Arvax targets first becomes the new center—Seneschal adjusts around them."
He looked to his left.
"Widowvine—disruption is yours. Stay mid-left. If the Legion spawns, fire through their backline. Use Vine Puppet to break their formation. Rear target first."
Widowvine Arcanist's silken robes whispered as she bowed faintly, vines curling beneath her feet.
"Ostreva," Raven turned to the right. "Back-right arc. Keep moving, keep stacking. You're our poison pressure. No heroics."
Lady Ostreva offered a slow smile.
"No worries, love. Will make sure this trash heap will get DoT over and over again."
