[flash]What it do?[/flash]
???
*Knock Knock KnocK*
"Yes, please, come in."
"You wanted to see me?"
"Yes, how are things?"
"Calm enough, considering we are surrounded. There are murmurs, tension in the air. The men are uncomfortable."
"Well, it is to be expected in a situation such as this. How about your men, how are they?"
"Ready. Always."
"How about you?"
."Minerva hardens my heart for whatever is to come. I'll weather the storm sir, don't worry."
"Venom Green"
"Pistachio Green"
"Brass"
"It's a blue color, I dunno."
"It is to be a long night, and even longer war. You will need what strength you and your men can muster. Gods help us, we all will. Tell the officers and gather the soldiers. Tell them to convene in the square. If we are to survive this, we must first survive the night."
"Yes sir."
Gwendolyn: (It's magenta-ish)
Lohengrin: (dark red)
Theon: (medium aquamarine, apparently)
Percy: (Less smart ass, more dark green.)
Vivi: (Sienna/dull orange)
Mordecai: (This is a slate grey.)
Kethyrian: (dark purple)
Sven (Grumpy Cat): (Burlywood? Off-tan brown)
Dio: (Lightish purple)
Flat plains stretched out as far as the eye could see. Two army's faced each other down from either side. To the western army metal ground upon metal, rattling of steel and wood echoed. An Orc General stood in forefront of the West March Expeditionary force, battleaxe in hand, glaring across the field to where those of Fera's promised did the same. He grunted, and spit to the ground, disgusted by the army in front of him. He violently jerked around to face his own army.
The Orc's name was Strom Bloodaxe. The general of the Expeditionary force, and the one who issued the orders on the battlefield. He was tall, rivaling even the Lizardfolk. Scars were a common place on his exposed chest and arms, while battered shoulder pads and boots gave the look of years of battle. Perhaps the most intimidating feature was the scar tearing horizontally across his face and over the bridge of his nose.
Unlike the other pansy n