Winter was quite the frigid bitch. It hung bitter and unrelenting, stirring up blizzards that had stolen many lives of the unprepared and consumed them in its stinging, chilling nothingness that swirled in chasms of menacing white, grey, and blue. Looming like a madman's castle in these frosty depths of perpetual winter was the impenetrable Fort Briggs, here some of the most diehard soldiers were housed and trained, lethal as the artic conditions their quarters are nestled in.
At the center of the command stands a woman who personifies "frigid bitch", in both personality and an evil icy stare that could send a polar bear cowering. Armed with sharp wit and sword, the major general leads her men with an iron dominance, training them to withstand any and all. She stands with an appraising look at her men all at full attention, narrowing her wintry-hued gaze at them.
They were powerful, incomparable to the Central dogs...but they still weren't ready."I want you to train HARDER!" she bellowed, her booming voice shaking loose several daggers of ice from the roof. Her men who were close to the falling debris dared to not flinch; it was best to meet your fate by an icicle than to cross Olivier Armstrong.