"
"Wot they doin?"
"Dunno. There is a weirdo just standing there in some odd armour hanging about with a shield. Bashing it"
"Coward. Using armour. Easy kill."
"Boss. How many we got?"
A group of scouts spoke before their leader continued.
"We have 800 elites for the frontal assault and twenty thousand fresh meat. The flanks will act as a distraction as usual.
"Has it rained? The ground looks different from the last scout report."
"It's fine. We have waded through more than a little bit of mud. We will wash it off with the entrails of the pink skins. Get the Vim. Let's put their tech to use."
…
Standing at the most forward trench. I stood above the trench line, banging Zircon's pommel against my shield. The sound of the impact traveled a short way, but the physical action was the main reason.
