You've spent the past few months in hell.
Sure, you've proven to your superiors that your lives are worth more than the clothes they inhabit, unlike your compatriots. You were taken from the front lines, for a more prestigious position. But at least they could give you some decent furs. The past few weeks you've been going through a forced march north, and every day was colder than the last. Now, standing against the bitter cold just south of the mountains of White Crag, the ancestral home of the elves, you wonder if your fingers will survive the night.
Standing, you watch the battle that is about to come- masses upon writhing masses of conscript armies, tens of thousand, all piecemeal, marching towards the fortifications set out at the base of the mountain. Your job is to light the tower of wood and oil behind you for when the elves move out to engage, so the knights can come in for a flanking position. Until then, any warming fires are forbidden. You pray the moment comes soon, so you can bask in its warmth.
Spoiler
Show
And we've started, on a lighter note. I'd like all of you to post with a character description n'sech, and chatting amongst yourselves is highly encouraged.