liongirl admiral sensed your arrival in her system almost before your ships exited hyperspace. if you think your troops will defile her precious gas giant - a swirling marble of red and blue and white and gold - or step one unclean foot on any of its moons - a swarm of beads in copper and bronze and brass and pearl, host to psychedelic jungles and incense-scrubland and liongirl temples - you are sorely mistaken. she drags her paw across the skies, strewing minefields like spilled ink. her eyes and fangs are aglow with dancing plasma as she paces the bridge of her flagship-castle Armored Winning Move.
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