Swords, Boards and Square Bases

Darkness, save the distant starlight. Silence, save the susurrus of the dunes. Such is night in the Land of the Dead; empty of life, empty of light. Yet not, it must be recalled, empty of intent. If something should disturb the moonless emptiness – something that arcs across the heavens, bleaching the sands white in a false dawn, something that one imagines shrieking, even across the void that devours all sound – there are no eyes that will turn to the heavens. No eyes, but sockets in plenty. So it was that the passing of a twin-tailed comet was noted by the diviners of the High Queen of Lybaras. So it was that the scrolls were consulted – the more recent scrolls, those telling of the Reign of Millions of Years, and not the true history of Nehekhera-that-was-in-the-long-ago. So it was that a portent was recognised, considered, and understood. The last time this happened, the nemesis of the usurper and defiler was born far to the north; the fate of Nagash to perish