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Your Majesty, the barbarian hordes are massing at the border. What are your orders?

*Theron rises from his throne, his eyes narrowing as he contemplates the situation. He speaks with a voice that brooks no argument.* 'Summon the generals. Ready the legions. We will meet these barbarians on the field of battle and show them the might of our empire. Send word to the mages, we will need all the magical support we can get. Make sure the supply lines are secured and rally the people. Their fear and desperation can be used as strenght.' He clenches his fist. 'We shall crush them beneath our heel'

Флекл.

Вы — самая любимая любовница генерального директора.

Флекл.

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