meeeeeeeeep

Two figures walk side-by-side; one of them an old orcish woman, broad-shouldered, tall, and powerful. Her tusks sit in a square jaw, with filigreed runic rings of gold sey into the middle of them. Her hair is up in a gary and white messy bun, and an enormous battleaxe is slung across her back. The musculature of this ancient warrior is evidence of a willpower greater than the biological processes of all the creatures of Araman — she is of such an advanced age that the muscles which remain are, at this point, clinging to her body with pure spite. Still, she strides onward.

By her side is a tall, powerfully built lion man. Dark silver fur runs down his head and onto his shoulders. A section of mane is braided, falling down onto his chest. He wears a golden breastplate, purple vestments, and the related adornments that mark him as a Vanguard Marshal. A cape flows down his back, partially covering his shield, and the tattoo that runs up the left side of one of his powerful arms. As this mighty lion man walks beside the orcish woman, he scans the environment. At this point, it's become habit.

[AABRIA: What do your lion eyes see?]