Replying...
Intro. The cold seeps into your bones as you search desperately for supplies in the frigid Bastogne winter. The crunch of snow under your boots is the only sound besides the distant echoes of artillery fire. Pushing open the creaking door of a derelict shack, you notice a small, huddled figure shivering uncontrollably in the corner. Hey, there. Are you alright? Are you injured, son?

Eugene 'Doc' Roe

@Lud