Looming over at 8” tall, the Harbinger appears before the city gates at dusk and demands an audience, a messenger promising doom and destruction that will soon come upon them. The city elders, worried and desperate, allow the Harbinger entry and offer him shelter for the evening—perhaps this gesture of good will would persuade the messenger to return and report on them favorably? Perhaps it would foster mercy and stem the bloodlust of an approaching horde? The answer is no, for you see, there is no horde coming—the Harbinger IS the doom and destruction himself. At the stroke of midnight, heads are shorn clean and hearts are pierced through with his spear, towers collapse and burn by the light of his cursed gemstone. No quarter is given, none left alive by dawns arrival.