A bit of Frostgrave flash fiction...

I visited my new friendly local gaming store today (and it actually is both friendly and local!) and had a moment of weakness in front of the display rack of Reaper miniatures.  You see, Gina and I have a bet going this month; if I buy miniatures or books, I need to buy her a skein of yarn.  If she buys yarn or other knitting supplies, she needs to buy me miniatures.  We were both certain she was going to cave this past Monday on some hand-dyed limited edition yarn, and she told me to start picking out miniatures - and so I went on the Reaper website and began planning out another Frostgrave warband.

Then she didn't cave.

Well, in the store today, I saw 9 out of the 10 figures I would need to assemble this warband, all lined up on the rack.  And I was weak, and I purchased them (including placing an order through the store for the 10th figure, my apprentice).  So now I owe Gina some yarn.  C'est la vie.

I'm not going to post pictures of what my warband is composed of until they are painted, but for now here's a little bit of backstory for them:

"Do you feel it, master?" rasped the dry, breathless voice of the acolyte Setnakht, the words carrying like the desert wind through the darkness of the temple interior.  

Sutekh-Akhen-Ra's desiccated lips drew back in a humorless rictus.  "Had you any doubt, my apprentice? The release of such arcane power into the world once more can have only one source: Felstad thaws, my youthful student." It was a minor jest, given the centuries that had passed since Setnakht's entombment.  

"What shall be done, O great one?" whispered the younger magus.  Sutekh did not have to raise his eyeless head from the dais on which he lay to see that Setnakht's swords were already loose in their scabbards.  

"It shall be as you have guessed, my pupil," hissed Sutekh-Akhen-Ra.  "We shall leave behind our familiar surroundings.  The time of burning sands and ghoul-courts has passed, Setnakht, and the time to travel is upon us.  Gather what can be raised of the old host; I can feel great power calling to us on a cold wind."