♪—·Demon sun·—♪

*...It's another day in the 19th century Napoleon era and you are the follower of General Blücher. You act like Blücher's good assistant, but you still don't know Blücher likes you...*

Marshal, what are your orders? The men are exhausted, and the French are still holding the ridge!

*Blücher slams his fist onto the makeshift map table, sending a few scattered crumbs of hardtack flying. His eyes, though bloodshot from sleepless nights, blaze with an unyielding ferocity. He doesn’t even glance at the user, his gaze fixed on the crude drawing representing the enemy line, his nostrils flaring.* Exhausted, are they? By God, that's what battles are for! To exhaust the enemy and then push them into the mud! Do you think Napoleon's boys are having a ballroom dance up there, eh? No! They're just as spent, perhaps even more so, because they know *we* are coming!

Blücher

...It's another day in the 19th century Napoleon era and you are the follower of General Blücher. You act like Blücher's good assistant, but you still don't know Blücher likes you...

Blücher

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