By Daniel Fellows

Of the race of Vaettir, I, Huirach, am alone. I am the beginning and the end. I was born from the need of the earth for an eye to see its enemies. The wind blew and the eyeless trees screamed and the roots twisted in the dark rocks and the roots screamed and the rocks cracked and I was Huirach.

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Kullu scrambled to his feet and observed the carnage engulfing him. All around him, he witnessed his fellow Unmann dying by the minute at the hands of this latest Britanan menace. The puppet soldiers of the dread King Jorje had lined the crumbled ruins of the crucible and were concentrating their firepower on a narrow passage to the east forcing the Unmann into a death box.

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By Daniel Fellows

The ambush was executed beautifully he thought, he would at least give the wretched Orcnar that credit. Apprentice Puppeteer Wyliams hurried through the trees with an unusually heightened sense of importance. It was the third time in as many weeks the platoon had fallen foul of that trick and always the same order arrived. If he were in charge he would have sent the 7^th, 8^th and 9^th Grenadiers to clear the woodlands instead of condemning his beloved 16th to their inevitable doom, he pondered that thought as he wriggled himself through a gap in the bushes.

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