"On the square where chessplayers expect to see a Bishop, instead we find a pile of leaves. A commonplace sight in the autumn, when the deciduous trees have shed; a friendly sight, an inoffensive pile of leaves.
"However, this pile of leaves is animated, animated by a spirit so evil and so ancient that there are no words to describe either its malignance nor its anciency.
"[I]f you insist on playing, at least try to deprive your opponent of all legal moves. He who has no moves loses in all senses, while the other player at least manages to feel the taste of an evanescent and hollow victory."
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