History is like a jackstraw in the wind, one never knows to where it will fly. A mere nudge in any direction and what should have happened doesn’t and all the wild imaginings of even the most brilliant can not encompass the new reality.
Such it was for the people who lived in and near a place much like Cornwall in the year of our Lord One thousand Four Hundred and Fifty-six. Things had tilted, re-balanced, regained, yet changed. The sea seemed more brilliant, the mountains more vertical, and the world, especially the world, much more fearsome.
Yet at first no one noticed. Life continued as life does with all the petty concerns and secret pleasures. It was the comet, it’s wispy fingers waving even in the most intense sunlight, that woke them to the dream.
It was later called the War of the Orbs by those dozen or so across the span of time who have tried to piece together what happened. So now I will make my attempt, for wargaming, more than anything else, is about story telling.