Finally, there came that horrible day when the war was nearing its end and the desperation of its generals caused them a great fever of imagination. On that day, they gave the order for the Wizards and Necromancers of their military corpse to throw open the doors to other end. Up, over the trenches and through the No Man’s Land they came. The Legion of Whatevers from the Geist times, creatures of pure magic forced into a world of flesh. They were hundreds in their numbers, mostly naked – exposing their strange, fleshy forms of mesh-matched animal features or apparitions of living colour made solid or costumed in the possessed flesh of man and beast, skin splitting and flesh crackling and burning as it struggled to contain these primordial things. Many were driven forward by the Wizards, with lashes of magic and words of pain. Like a company of clowns, they howled and rolled in a great horde, smoke rising from wherever they set foot. On and on through the day the machine guns droned and Clerics intoned, struggling to drive the monsters back. In the end, the men in the trenches stopped caring who won or lost who lived or died. They only cared that the madness would soon be over.