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Hosts of the White Palace


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Chapter 1
In the Age of Myth he awoke, revived from his deep slumber by the rampant Winds of Magic. Looking around, he saw the familiar sights of his tomb in the White Palace, yet everything was... different... The Winds that he had known so well were no longer there. In their place was something stronger, something purer. This place was Death incarnate. For a second he wondered if he had suffered Final Death and arrived in the Underworld. 

Then the memories started creeping back. He remembered the fierce battles they had fought to defend their ancient homes from the Usurper and his cohorts, and how it had all come to naught. The Usurper had defeated Settra the Imperishable, infiltrated the Underworld and consumed its ruler, Usirian. He had left the land in ruins and returned north with all who would follow him. Not long thereafter, the World That Was had ended. 

Sehenesmet sighed, producing a sound reminiscent of the creaking of old, dried out leather. If only his Lord, and the other Old Gods, had realized the scope of the Usurper's plans. Maybe then they would have brought back their most Ancient servants, servants who did not care much for another turf war in Nehekhara, but who certainly had an interest in the preservation of the Old Pantheon and the World That Was. Maybe then things would have been different. 

He could feel the dormant minds of his followers all around him, still ready to rise at his call. While slowly climbing his old bones out of the sarcophagus, he activated them. He was going to need their assistance. 

His Vessel, the most recent of his masterpieces, still stood guard over his throne, the throne of the Vizier of Quatar. Sehenesmet elevated himself into his Vessel, and transferred his awareness into the pathways of the giant structure. The ancient stone Animated, and a cloud of dust spread as it started moving. The other statues in the throne room came to life as well, and he was pleased to hear the clattering movements of his servants outside. He could perceive the presence of the Usurper far away, a presence so strong that it left no doubt about who ruled these lands. 

Walking out into the strong sun, and seeing the grandeur of the White Palace, built into the cliffs of what used to be the entrance to the Charnel Valley, reinforced his belief in what had to be done. The Usurper had ruled long enough - it was time for his undeserved rule to come to an end. It would be no small task. 

The first step would be to understand the situation - to figure out the nature of this new world that he had awoken in. Sehenesmet set out together with his minions to investigate the surroundings of the Palace.



I've been following this project for a while, and after starting to work in earnest on painting and writing the background for my TK (and company) army, I thought that I would very much like it to be part of the Endless Deserts. I will post here the progress on my army, as well as the narrative for its background and little snippets of fluff accompanying each unit. Sometimes these snippets will spoil the narrative a little, but oh well, so be it. Also, I'm using official characters and places from the World That Was in my story, so if that's not your cup of tea... you are warned ;) Also, since I have proper P&M blogs in other places, I will limit this thread to what's relevant - finished models and narrative. Anyways, talked too much already, here is what I have so far!


Concubines of Djoser (Tomb Banshees)
When High King Djoser, founder of the city of Quatar, was entombed deep within what would later become known as the White Palace in the year of -2647, his dead family members, closest retainers and concubines were buried with him. His retainers, whether mighty champions or renowned scholars, were all powerful men of noble birth, and were killed in a ritualistic fashion by the priesthood and mummified so that they may forever be preserved at the great king’s side. His concubines, simple commoner girls that had happened to catch the king’s eye, were far less lucky, and were simply left in the antechamber as the tomb was sealed shut. It is said that they were shrieking in terror as the tomb was closed, and continued to do so for days on end until the oxygen ran out, and they died an agonizing death. Now their spirits rise again, and they shriek once more at their cursed existence while serving their lord in unlife.


Desert Spirits (Spirit Hosts)
Every now and then, mortals get lost or misled trying to cross the desert. This inadvertedly leads to the demise of these unlucky individuals, as the desert is a harsh and unforgiving place. Wandering around for hours, or sometimes even days, the desert gradually saps the strength from these individuals, until they are little more than husks, shadows of their former selves, being led around by mirages and offers of salvation whispered into their ears by the winds of Shyish. The whispers gradually intensify, and as the final strength leaves their bodies, they embrace the salvation offered and their souls join the winds of Death, whispering offers of salvation into the ears of other unfortunate victims of the desert.


Out of the army of Quatar, only the most accomplished earned the honor of being recruited into the ranks of the soldiers of the White Palace, where they served directly under the city’s ruler. Throughout the centuries, legions of warriors have served and passed away, and as the ancient kings of the White Palace rise again, so to do their servants.


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Chapter 2

Strange colors and twisted geometries extended endlessly in every direction. Though he had no eyes to see with, he could somehow perceive them, yet when he turned his attention and tried to scrutinize them, they were gone. It no longer puzzled him – though he had by no means mastered this strange domain, he had experienced it before. Such was the nature of the fabric of the Void. He drifted along its bizarre dimensions, ever aware, ever watchful for the faint echoes of that presence which he sought. Others tried to catch his attention, tried to imitate his objective, tried to mislead him. There were many entities in this realm that preyed upon those weak of will. He knew this all too well, and he would not fall for it. ‘Vizier…’ As he entered a new region, where space itself seemed to twist and bend, he felt something tugging strongly at him, forcefully pulling him back to…

Sehenesmet drew in a sharp breath of air as he came to his senses, though being undead, he did not need to, and the air simply passed through the cavity in his chest where his lungs used to be situated. Habits from his time as a living human being were not easily erased. In this, he was similar to all of the others – as one passed the threshold between life and unlife, ones mentality stagnated, and major changes could no longer occur. He opened his eyes and examined the one who had roused him from his meditation.

‘It is not yet time’, he said. ‘Why did you waken me?’

‘I’m sorry, Vizier’, said Pabasa, Sehenesmet’s aide and the former leader of the Stoneshaper guild. ‘The scouts have reported sightings of something we never imagined finding in these lands. I think you should better see this for yourself.’

Sehenesmet knew not to take Pabasa’s advice lightly. For centuries, he had proven to be an excellent servant.

‘Very well’, he said. ‘Take me there.’


Tomb King Neferka watched from atop his chariot as his minions excavated the large purple stone. Even from his vantage point above the ravine where they had found it, he could feel how it surged with necromantic energies. If even he could feel it from this distance, then the relic must be cataclysmically powerful. He turned to Siptah, his High Priest, and asked:

‘Is it genuine?’

‘Yes, my King, it is. This is the Arkstone of Perpetuity.’

He had heard the legends, of course. The royal stone that could bind and direct the Winds of Shyish themselves. It pained him greatly to aid the Usurper in this way, but not even he, with the famed chariot regiments of Tebtunis at his back, could go against the direct orders of Nagash. Surely nothing good would come out of delivering a treasure such as this to him. Grinding his teeth, he spit out:

‘Very well. Bring it back.’

Neferka promptly turned his chariot and set off towards his Necropolis, his entourage struggling to follow suit.


Sehenesmet watched from afar as Neferka’s skeletal slaves started hauling the huge amethyst back to Tebtunis.

‘There is no doubt about it – that is the Arkstone. It was good that you brought me here’, Sehenesmet said to his aide.

‘But how could such a thing end up right at our doorstep in this world, when we spent so many centuries in the World That Was searching for it?’

‘The ways of Qu’aph are mysterious. Perhaps our need was not large enough. The Gods are truly smiling upon us today – this is a great blessing. We must not let it fall into the Usurper’s hands.’

‘What do we do?’ Pabasa asked, though he already knew the answer.

‘Prepare the legions. We march to war.’


Thanks man! Big fan of your work, I love how you're working on giving the good old mummies a place in the new worlds. Cheers!

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