[ooc]Excuse me if I jump the gun, wolfsbane, but since you are the moderator, you can edit or delete this thread if it hinders the game. Anyway, I have the time and inclination to start playing, so I will. [/ooc] Long ago, in a magickal land not unlike ancient Egypt, there lived a mighty king named Nahgrek. He conquered all of his enemies, until only time itself could threaten his empire, then he conquered time as well: First he gathered together the wisest necromancers and learned all their secrets, then he killed them and kept the secrets for himself. For over eight millennia he has guarded his kingdom against time, desperately trying to outlast the universe. When he was alive - truly alive - he had felt time to be like a fire which burned him up. Now, in his long undeath, time seems more like a race. Everywhere, every instant, the universe changed and grew, while he stayed still. He had to keep racing just to stay in the same place. Strange new devices, vast trade networks and incredible population growth now dwarf the power of his ancient empire. Once it was the mightiest human city and now, though it is unchanged, it is only a tiny town in a continent of cities. He sits at a desk at the end of a long throne room, opposite a giant Urish clock which slices up eternity, and which he frequently tries to outstare. On his desk is a crystal ball and some wax tablets and styli, which are his weapons in the unending war of endurance. For the last five centuries he has watched in horror as a new empire of life and light grows more powerful in the east, practically on his doorstep. After a few decades of thought, he takes a stylus and tablets and orders his agents in the trading city of Mammon to begin leasing vineyards and stockpiling strong wines. Then he sends another order for one of his most personable zombies to make contact with the centaur tribes. Centaurs are not diplomatic, but once they empty their quivers into the emissary, they may stop to parley. As an afterthought, he writes a letter to the Kroenig of Vortigern, the dragon king in the north, subtly hinting that any expenses incurred in a world war would be subsidised.