383YE Spring Equinox winds of war

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Mission

The Quayside

The Ships are ready! Splitting my legion, those eager to spill Grendle blood and free slaves set sail to Mareev. Raid those shores and break these chains. Slavery has no place in these lands and we shall see its end. Vetrans, for countless year we have fought and bled for this Empire, our Empire. My loyalty is to the throne, but also my nation, my kin. So I must give this order never given before... Raise our banners, join me in song. We march to Skarsind. My kin we go home. Be alert and hit and run foes that follow. Eat heartily and drink deep.

Morgor, General of the Winter Sun

The raid against Beoraidh begins on the quaysides of the Necropolis and Redoubt. With the Grendel armada anchored off Sarvos it is considered too dangerous to risk so many ships full of armed warriors passing beneath their gaze. For a short time a great forest of masts sprouts in the Bay of Catazar off Crown's Quay, Sanctuary, Elos, and Visten. These ports are not really equipped to cope with the huge number of vessels - and the soldiers who come to board them - but they do their best.

More than one-hundred-and-fifty ship captains outfit their vessels to transport armed soldiers - and rescued slaves - while some hundred-and-twenty-five heroic captains commit their warbands to the endeavor. The numbers of soldiers swell dramatically when three thousand Imperial Orc reavers arrive from the north. While the Winter Sun itself has marched home to Skarsind, nearly half the orc soldiers that make up its ranks have chosen to request furlough so that they can actively support liberation of slaves from the Grendel.

Several ships find they have additional crew. Any ship enchanted with the power of Golden Voyage discovers that they have gained half a dozen blue-skinned mariners with great fin-shaped ears and easy smiles - heralds of the Regent of the Eternal Sea eager to help support the daring raid against the Grendel. They are surprisingly strong and agile, but well versed in all the sailors arts, as well as bearing terrible weapons of gold and silver that they wield with adept skill. They are cheerfully up front about their wider duties - they are here to ensure the Imperial armada reaches its destination safely.

The Open Sea

Time is of the essence - the strike must take place before the Salt Lord of Beoraidh is able to complete the fortification of the town and while the slave markets are swollen with gladiators and raw "recruits". Less than a month after the Winter Solstice, the Imperial vessels set sail - a grand armada of mechant ships and corsairs following the coast east towards the Broken Shore.

The southern coast of Spiral is given a wide berth - unsurprisingly. The emanations of that place which lurks at the heart of Screed stretch some distance out to sea, it seeems, as well as assailing those on land. There are a few reports of hallucinations, and dark thoughts assailing sensitive sailors - but the Imperial ships do not take the risk of anchoring within sight of the rocky cliffs of the south-easternmost territory of the Empire. Instead, they hurry on toward their destination.

Some of the ships know these waters, having been involved in the original scheme to Map the Bay. They point out the ruined lighthouse that stands high above the water here. It is obviously Urizen in its construction, but now the broken walls shelter a large community of orcs. Still, despite the obvious damage, a single tall tower of white granite stands at its heart, topped with an immense globe of tempest jade. it is a powerful symbol, especially to the Urizen among the armada.

It also means that the orcs of the Broken Shore must now be aware of the storm that is coming. The sand begins to flow through the hourglass - the armada must reach Beoraidh as swiftly as possible before the Grendel are warned and able to prepare a reception for the Imperial force.

As with Spiral and Redoubt, much of the coastline of Mareave is composed of vertiginous rocky cliffs that offer no berth to ships and no place to disembark. Beoraidh itself represents the first real opportunity for the Imperial ships to unload their steel cargo. As the armada sweeps south, it encounters the first Grendel warships - pirates and privateers who engage the first Imperial ships with relish but who break and scatter when the true scale of the assault becomes clear.

The first sign that the ships are approaching Beoraidh is the great stone colossi that flank the crimson cascade the falls from the high cliffs south of the port. Then, rounding a headland, the wretched sprawl of their destination is finally visible.

The Port

Beoraidh is more a ruin than a town. Many of the older buildings are sunk into the waters of the Bay, some drowned so deep that no part of them pokes above the surface even at low tide. Others are only partially submerged, their roofs and upper windows connected with makeshift bridges of driftwood and rope. Despite its ramshackle appearance, the port swarms with life - thousands of orcs clearly make this drowning city their home. Above the city, on its landward side, the skeleton of a stone fortification rises, pale stone gleaming against the backdrop of dark eastern mountains. This is the nearly completed fortification that will defend the town and serve as a base of operations for protecting the entire territory, and the first target of the raid.

There are few actual sea defences to slow the ships in the bay - beyond the danger presented by submerged buildings of course. It might prove difficult for a naval force to approach the port, but the smaller vessels that make up the armada are much more comfortable navigating independently, and in tight quarters. The Freeborn ships take the lead - the corsairs who crew them particularly adept at navigating treacherous coastal waters. They are the first to gain the docks, and in a trice warriors of the Brass Coast and Imperial Orc reavers pour forth to secure a beachhead.

The town is not entirely unprotected however. Seven squat towers are scattered along the waterfront, garrisoned by warriors and topped by heavy ballista. As the alarm is raised - great iron bells tolling desperately - the ballistae are brought into play sending bolt after bolt against the attackers on the docks. Between the towers are two raised platforms of heavy stone - both partially sunk in the waters of the Bay - on which stand two great catapults facing out to sea. These present a much more significant danger to the armada. The orcs clamour to load them not only with stones, but with chainshot to shred sails and burning oil to set wooden hulls afire. They fire indiscriminately - barely concerned about hitting Grendel ships or half-sunken buildings - and score several crushing hits against Imperial ships before a combined force of League and Wintermark soldiers are able to reach them and smash them.

It falls to the soldiers of Highguard, Dawn, and the Marches to capture the garrison towers - all the while fighting against orc warriors who spill forth from their homes to engage in chaotic melee that soon engulfs the seaward side of the port. Yet the town itself is not the target of the raid. Once the docks are secured - more or less - the Imperial forces split up. Mariners and sailors focus on keeping the waterfront secure - turning the weapons atop the captured towers on any who try to push through - while the soldiers split into two groups.

One heads directly for the almost-completed castle, while the other dash quickly through the streets of Beoraidh heading for the colliseum and the slave camps that lie to the south-east.

The Castle

The fortification stands just outside the town, although there is already a cluster of new buildings rising outside its walls. The outer walls are mostly complete, with the large workforce slaving to complete a central keep. The overseers and soldiers who keep a wary eye on the construction would normally be little match for the large number of Imperial soldiers arrayed against them - but they have the advantage of a literal fortification albeit one that is not yet complete.

Indeed, once it is clear that the Empire is coming for the fort, the order is clearly given to close an bar the gates... but for some reason the gates stop moving before they are half closed. The first soldiers through the gate - a mixture of Imperial Orcs reavers and Urizen battlemages - quickly understand why. The slaves set to work building the fortification are in open rebellion against their oppressors. Those who can are quick to rally around their liberators - the majority are orcs but there are a few humans among their number. They know the castle and the keep intimately - having built it themselves - and despite their chains they courageously fight for their freedom.

Battle rages through the partially-complete structure, and blood slickens the white granite halls and courtyards. As the sun begins to fall into the west, the Imperial forces and their rebellious allies have been victorious. There is hurried talk of how best to take down the castle. Flames are the obvious weapon of choice, but what to fire? The answer is provided by one of the most outspoken of the slaves - a grizzled orc woman leaning on a blood-and-brain spattered mattock - who quickly leads the Empire to the supports holding key parts of the half-built fortification in place.

Working feverishly, the slaves who until only recently had been charged with building the castle set to work preparing to take it apart. More soldiers arrive - but this time it is the Empire that has the advantage of walls and gates. As the sun falls toward the horizon, the soldiers and slaves charge out through the gates, through the Grenddel soldiers trying to get 'in. As they escape, with a terrible groan the central keep begins to list to the side - fatally undermined - and then with a terrible roar it collapses, smashing through the wall as it does so, and as great plumes of smoke rise from the towers along the walls.

With some seven hundred orc slave-warriors in tow, the first assault team fights their way back to the docks as behind them the burning ruins of the Grendel castle provide a blazing beacon in the gathering twilight.

The Coliseum

Just to the southeast of the port stands the grand coliseum. A massive structure of white granite and precious weirwood, it is almost a castle in its own right. It is surrounded by rings of tents and smaller buildings - and by a great open-air slave market. The alarm has been raised, the orcs aroun the colliseum know that something is coming and they are prepared to meet it.

Again the Imperial Orcs lead the way - on land at least. Some of the corsair fleets make use of a narrow waterway that leads to a second, smaller set of docks just south of the coliseum itself, and release several hundred fresh warriors to capture the waterfront there. Here they also find signs that they are not the only human vessels at Beoraidh. A pair of Asavean galleys are moored at these docks. Their crews panic when they see the Empire - trying to escape through the Freeborn fleets. One of the ships founders, fatally holing itself below the waterline, but the other makes open water and escapes. The crew of the damaged ship are rescued - the slaves liberated as a matter of course - and it is quickly revealed that these are vessels belonging to the corrupt Tarquinius family of Nemoria, continuing to supply white granite to the Grendel to build their Beoraidh fort as they had done previously in Apulian - and trading human slaves to the Grendel to supplement their income.

While the Freeborn secure the docks, the main force of Imperial troops assaults the coliseum and the slave-cum-training camps that surround them. As with the castle, almost as soon as the assault begins the slaves and gladiators join the fray. They burn with fury, joining wherever possible with Imperial Orc reavers to take vengeance against their captors. The slaves in the camps fight with only their anger to sustain them at first but they soon wrest weapons from their Grendel opressors. The gladiators from the arena itself are a very different matter. Hundreds of trained fighters spill out of the pits beneath the coliseum and set about the spectators on the stands. Their weapons may be outlandish, and their armour designed as much as costume as protection, but their skills cannot be denied.

There are many wild beasts in cages beneath the coliseum as well - and someone releases them all. Cunning contraptions allow them to be raised to the arena floor, and several dozen wild cats, wolves, drakes and even a few mandowla are suddenly unleashed to add to the chaos. Their attacks are indiscriminate - they are as likely to attack slaves and Imperial soldiers as Broken Shore orcs - but for the most part they seem more interested in chasing down fleeing Grendel than engaging with armed warriors.

As the day draws on, it is clear that the victory lies with the Empire and their sudden allies. At around the same time that the skeletal fortification above the town begins to burn, the grand coliseum likewise is set aflame. The weirwood burns quickly, but even more effective are the fires set in the chambers beneath the structure which quickly spread and begin to collapse large parts of the arena. The fire swiftly expands, burning the camps that ring the colliseum as the Empire and their new allies retreat back toward Beoraidh itself.

The Escape

The defenders of Beoraidh continue to harry Imperial soldiers as they make for the docks. The two halves of the assault force come together on the waterfront, catching the Broken Shore orcs between themselves and the mariners occupying the quayside. They force their way through, and begin the chaotic loading of orc slaves onto ships. Some do not want to come - inspired by the soldiers of the Winter Sun they want to stay in Beoraidh and continue to fight - but some two and a half thousand orcs scramble aboard the Imperial ships.

As each hold fills, that ship pushes west into open water to make way for another vessel. As quick moving Navarr skirmishers move back and forth between the quayside and the town, striking at the Broken Shore orcs and then retreating to safety, bands of brutal Varushkan warriors stand guard over League saboteurs who set a number of fires in the garrison towers. Expertly laid, a wall of flame soon begins to spread forcing the Grendel warriors to break off from their attack on the quayside or risk seeing their entire town consumed in a conflagration.

The last ships out are Imperial Orc vessels, wallowing heavy in the water with their holds groaning with slaves and soldiers alike, ready for the long journey back to Necropolis. As they sail north, two great columns of black smoke rise into the star-studded skies, marking the destruction of the Grendels' new fortification and their grand colisseum - and perhaps their immediate plans to invade the Empire.

Perhaps.

The Aftermath

The Imperial armada makes Redoubt without encountering any further Grendel. Indeed, they enjoy excellent sailing winds - the best possible weather in fact - for their swift retreat back to Imperial waters. Even the malign presence of the Black Plateau is not sufficient to dampen the high spirits of the victorious humans and orcs.

A small handful of ships, their crews, and their cargos are unaccounted for - the heralds of Rhianos aboard several ships are a little cagey and will only say that adventures can sometimes take an unexpected turn. They quickly change the subject, preferring to dwell on the great adventure they and their Imperial friends have just enjoyed, eager to gather stories of risk and reward from as many of the ships as they can.

There are plenty of such stories - but some with a more mysterious timbre. For example, the slave-workers at the castle cannot give a clear explanation for how they knew the Empire was coming, nor who first suggested that this was their chance to fight free. Nobody from the coliseum can guess who freed the animals from their cages, nor set the mechanisms going that raised so many of the beasts to the floor of the arena. Some of the wilder coincidences can be laid perhaps at the door of Rhianos but most seem too subtle to be the work of the Regent of the Eternal Sea.

In addition there are a handful of stories of orcs nobody knew urging their compatriots to take up makeshift weapons - and that those weapons seemed almost preternaturally effective at breaking chains and slaying slave overseers. A few of these items - mostly clubs - bear odd lingering traces of Spring magic enchantment when examined by magicians.

A few soldiers and sailors talk of a more spiritual experience. Of being seized with the absolute certainty that tearing down the slave-masters, and freeing their slaves, was unqestionably the right thing to do. Their eyes burn with passion when they speak of it - of how they had never really understood the true evil of slavery before but now they had seen it with their own eyes they would do anything to end its grip of the world forever. A few who experience these bursts of insight quit their commissions, or their crews, with half-formed plans of finding some cause to give their support to.

Regardless of strange experiences during the raid, the Empire has achieved its objectives and more. The castle is in ruins, the Grendel training grounds scorched to the ground, and thousands of orcs freed from bondage.

Unlike the slaves freed from Dubhtraig, there is no question where these gladiators and slave-warriors are going. Apart from a bare handful, these twenty-five-hundred orcs (and most of the human slaves for that matter) accompany the Winter Sun reavers north to Skarsind. They are enthusiastic about their new homes, and about the chance to serve alongside their liberators. It may take time, but once the Imperial Orcs have gained more territory, they will be able to field a third army whose hard core will be former slaves who know what it means to fight for their freedom - and who owe a debt of gratitude to the Empire for bringing them their liberty.

Game Information : Beoraidh

The raid on Beoraidh has been a complete success. The Grendel fortification there has been destroyed and must begin again, and the Broken Shore orcs will not be able to raise an army in Mareave for the next year.

The Imperial Orcs numbers have been swelled by two-and-a-half thousand warriors, and several hundred more orcs who are not fighters but who are keen to embrace their way of life. Escorted by the Winter Sun orcs from Necropolis north along the Blood Red Roads, they are ready to begin new lives in Skarsind.

Everyone who took part in the raid has received shares of the Imperial Guerdon, but no other rewards beyond the knowledge that they have struck a serious blow against the Grendel and freed thousands of slaves from bondage.

Participation : Beoraidh

Any human character whose military unit or fleet supported the raid is free to roleplay that they had a profound spiritual epiphany during the raid. In game terms, they were enveloped by a spontaneous aura that gave them a profound sense that they were doing something righteous, heroic, or courageous in fighting to free the slaves of the Broken Shore. While that aura lingers for a time, it will have faded completely by the beginning of the Spring Equinox event.

Imperial orc players will not have experienced this peculiar epiphany. Instead they are encouraged to create stories of hearing the voices of their ancestors during the raid urging them to fight to free the orc slaves. Any such orc may continue to hear such an ancestor clearly from that point on - representing a connection to one of those slave voices that are more often impossible to distinguish from the storm of angry slaves. Such an ancestor is unlikely to like humans very much, but that hatred is likely to be secondary to strongly encouraging their descendant to free orcs from slavery.

In addition to these immediate effects, some more durable auras have been observed on weapons used to fight the Grendel. Anyone whose military unit or fleet supported the Raid of Beoraidh action can e-mail plot@profounddecisions.co.uk and request one of these ribbons which will be available in their pack at the event. The deadline for these requests is midnight on Monday 10th. This opportunity is available only to people who took the appropriate downtime action; please do not e-mail in to request one of you did not take this action.

The Pass

Morrow

Sentinels! We march. The heroes of the Empire support you. They won a victory against the Druj to bring you the supplies we need to all stay, to all fight. Dawn supports you. They have cast knights of glory so our numbers will swell. The League and Varushka support you. With Winters Mantle, the will pay the price, to take us forward, to make us ready to bring to bear the magic of the Empire against the hated Druj. Forward, steadily forward. March with our allies and retake our home.

Nicassia Avicia of Phoenix Reach, General of the Citadel Guard

In the lead up to the WInter Solstice, the Druj advance into Morrow was stalled, and turned back by the combined forces of Urizen, the League, Varushka, and superantural allies from the realms of Day and Winter. The Mallum orcs had their precarious fingerhold in Operus denied them, and were then hard pressed to retain control of Caeli. While victory was sweet, it was also bitter, however. Wherever the Druj had touched Morrow, they had scarred it with their malice - perhaps indelibly.

During the Winter Solstice, the heroes of the Empire struck behind Druj lines at a force camped near the terraces and farms of Arbiter's Green. The site of the now-ruined Gardens of Morrow saw a vicious battle against the orcs of the Mallum resulting in a significant number of supplies being captured and delivered to the Citadel Guard - offering them much-needed support for the coming season. Indeed, thanks to this brave action the Urizen army was not only able to sustain itself in the following months but potentially begin to recover from its dire situation. Providing no more of the nation is lost, the Citadel Guard will be able to support itself without external assistance.

This might not be a surprise but we're fighting the Druj again. The Despicable Druj scum still threaten the Empire and we shall work on destroying them one barbarian at a time. Guard your comrades, fight together in a steady advance to drive them away from the Empire.

Natalia 'The Falcon' Barossa, General of the Towerjacks

It is perhaps unsurprising that in the wake of such a success, the mood among the armies camped in south-eastern Morrow is increasingly positive. Now, all that remains to be done is to capitalise on the sucesses of the previous months and finally break the Druj, driving them back out of Morrow and reclaiming Peregro and Caeli.

The Citadel Guard leads the attack, first south to build on gains made in Caeli and then north into Peregro. The Urizen soldiers march with the protection of Winter's Mantle - the power of cyclic magic allowing them to turn aside mortal injuries... as long as some of their allies bear those injuries for them. At their sides, three thousand Knights of Glory called from the Summer realm in the name of Eleonaris; tall red-haired warriors in fine mithril plate wielding deadly long spears and vicious single-bladed swords. They hunt with the aid of great golden hawks whose talons are encased in mithril razors the better to pluck out the eyes of Druj scouts.

Summer knights also march with the Varushkan armies - accompanying the Northern Eagle are a host of heavily-armoured schlacta wrapped in gold and crimson cloaks with spreading antlers and deadly axes. They, too, help to hunt the Druj with whip-thin hounds of ghostly mien whose barking fills the hearts of cowards with overwhelming fear. Along with the Iron Helms, they press into Peregro, seeking to harry the flanks of the Druj.

The Wolves of War, along with well-paid Varushan wagon raiders, Imperial Orc reavers, and daring Freeborn adventurers, strike at Druj camps and fallen spires, denying the orcs the treasures they stole from Urizen as well as claiming a bounty of herbs from the Druj defenders.

The Towerjacks coordinate the campaign, using runners and scattered heliopticon towers to send messages swiftly to the other armies. Their forces too are enchanted - with supernatural insight that puts them in the ideal position to guide the Imperial strategy. They also hang back because they are protecting the workers responsible for erecting new heliopticon towers, including a replacement for the central tower that once stood in Caeli.

Further magic rests over Morrow; every drop of water is rich with healing power. No injury save the most grievous proves fatal. Anything short of execution heals quickly, leaving no scars. While the crystalline fortress that had encased Canterspire has faded away, many of the heralds of Phaleron have remained behind, doing their best to offer succor and support to the people of Urizen. At the same time, the eerie giant hounds summoned into the hills of Altis range forth across the whole territory. Sometimes they fight alongside the Imperial armies, sometimes they busy themselves in lone hunts against the Druj.

We know the Danger that flows in Winter. Varushkans know sacrifice, and we will pay the price. The Iron Helms make a Steady Advance in Morrow

Magnus Anatolyvich Prochnost, General of the Iron Helms

Hunting the Druj... and they must be hunted. The eastern orcs do not engage Imperial forces. There are no true battles this season in Morrow. The twisted banners of the Druj armies are not seen; only the assassins, saboteurs, and ambushers they are wont to leave behind remain in the hills and woodlands. They must still be rooted out lest they present an enduring threat but the actual armies seem to have vanished.

It does not do to become overconfident when fighting the Druj however - they are more than capable of lulling their enemies into a false sense of security so that they overextend themselves and walk into a prepared trap. The Empire's armies must still tread with care, but their advance is largely uncontested. The spires of first Caeli and then Peregro are liberated and the story of the Druj retreat pieced together from the scattered survivors.

Wolves, you have pushed the enemy back already, but now you will throw them from Morrow and send them home without even the shirts on their backs. We shall hire the hungriest bravos of Temeshwar and Mestra to raid their baggage trains, taking from them everything they need to wage war. From their pikes to their favourite boots, make them incapable of coming back to trouble us.

Gabriel Barossa, General of the Wolves of War

Almost as soon as the Winter Solstice was ended, the armies of the Druj fled Morrow. They did not even pause to take slaves with them, or to slaughter the captured Urizen as is so often their wont. Instead, they bundled up their ill-gotten gains and withdrew the way they came - along the trods south into Proceris, back into Zenith.

There are still soldiers to kill, but they are scattered, going to ground. The aid of supernatural allies - hawks and hounds, and wolves, and keen-eyed librarians - give the Empire the advantage. There is a lot of ground to cover, but many of these left-behind warbands are rooted out and slain before they can find suitable places to hide.

Purge the Druj from Urizen

Akstis Eigulys, General of the Northern Eagle

The Empire has won in Morrow - an uncontested victory. There are still tragedies - such as the Spire of the Red Sun in Peregro where the Druj took the time to kill as many of their captured Urizen as they could find . More common is to find a spire where the people had already made the same choice as those at the Arbiter's Seat, accepting the gift of Kaela, embracing painless death and the hope of reincarnation rather than continue to remain in the hands of the Druj. In several of these spires there are tearful stories of the Druj telling their prisoners that the Empire was in retreat; that Morrow would soon be dominated entirely by the orcs just as Zenith was; that the other nations had abandoned Urizen. Those who believed these lies are mourned by those who denied them. Several spires now stand as empty monuments to the invasion and the terrible malice of the Druj.

All of us get lost in the darkness

Zenith

When the Highborn armies made their slow fighting retreat west out of Zenith, they laid down their lives to buy as much time as possible for the people to flee to Morrow. Many escaped - but many more were left behind and are now enslaved by the Druj. A very few have trusted to magic to shroud their spires, but for many the protection of the Vale of Shadows was beyond their capabilities. They now languish under the cruel whip of the orcs of the Mallum. With an aura of despair settling over the territory, it seems that hope of a speedy resolution has been extinguished.

Shortly before the Winter Solstice, however, bands of sentinels from the spires of eastern Morrow and northern Spiral, and from the groups who were lucky enough to escape Zenith before it fell, hatched a plan to make a surprise strike into Zenith to rescue as many of the people left behind as they could. They received additional support from Highborn soldiers, some hoping against hope to recover lost comrades taken by the orcs. The plan also gains the approval of those heralds of Phaleron who had been actively helping citizens of Morrow reach safety over the last season.

In the weeks after the Winter Solstice, then, while the Imperial armies move into Caeli and Peregro, bands of Imperial heroes move over the mountains east and south from Morrow, and north from Redoubt, into Zenith. For the most part they use the high passes - many of which are known only to the sentinels of Urizen - and with as much stealth as they can muster they begin to pick their way across Zenith.

They find a territory much transformed. The air is thick with that horrible, cloying dread that seems to pool in any land the Druj control for long enough. It exacerbates the very real fear of being spotted, of being captured, of becoming subject to the cruel torments of the Druj. It also plays on more subtle fears - fears that it is already too late for the people of Zenith. Fear that the entire enterprise is a mistake. For those looking to find specific loved ones, it is even worse. It takes great spiritual strength to endure the touch of this oppressive atmosphere, even though it is so comparatively new.

The purpose of the raid is to rescue people, not to strike directly at the Druj, but it proves difficult to avoid altercations. Most of the left-behind spires are still occupied, but wherever there are humans there are also orcs. Sometimes it is possible to evacuate some or all of the people by stealth, but more often a diversion is required. There is rarely an opportunity for full-on assault, and some of the major spires are simply too well defended to do more than scout them.

That said... there seem to be fewer actual Druj warriors in Zenith than might have been expected. There is at least one army here, perhaps more - the raid is focused on getting people to safety not on scouting enemy emplacements - but it certainly does not seem that all the armies that retreated from Morrow straight after the Winter Solstice are camped here in Zenith. Rescued prisoners lack any real understanding of Druj movements, but they agree that a large number of orcs came down from the north shortly after the Winter Solstice but they did not stay. Where they went however none can say.

There is no doubt that the Druj control the entire territory. From Iteri in the west to Lustri and Occursion in the east there are orcs everywhere and their touch is on everything. They have raised potent Spring magic to infuse the waters of Zenith with healing magic - a cruel touch that allows them to torment their slaves as they wish in the knowledge that anything short of death will be healed the next morning. They have also raised magical protections in Proceris and Lustri - the marshes and forests themselves seem to favour the Druj and hinder the Imperial heroes. Animals attack without warning, and it is all too easy to become lost and stranded by eerie mists and deceptive lights that drift among them.

On a more mundane level, they have taken control of several spires and raised makeshift fortifications around them. For example Spire Calator in Iteri - the spire that once lead Urizen in the creation of ushabti - is now a prison for artisans and crafters forced to toil making magical weapons for the Druj. Beneath the towers, ringed now with spike-covered walls reminiscent of the old Spires of the Dusk in the Barrens, a great work-camp has been set up. Here, Urizen slaves are forced to work the rich dragonbone deposits of Iteri, beaten mercilessly if they fail to fulfil punishing quotas each day. A concerted attack early in the campaign frees a number of these slaves, quickly lead back up the river into Morrow with the aid of Phaleron's guides. There is no real opportunity to attack Spire Calator however - there are simply too many Druj garrisoning the place.

The broken ruins of the Arch of the Sky provide a temporary base of operations for some of the raiders, allowing them to launch a series of daring strikes and evacuate as many people as they could to meet up with Imperial troops engaged in the liberation of Caeli and Peregro. In particular, a joint attack by Highborn and Dawnish warbands supported by Urizen sentinels manages to liberate an entire camp of miserable soldiers - captured form the Highborn armies and put to work tilling the marshy farms of Proceris. Tired, tormented, subject to regular bouts of starvation, they refused to surrender to despair - and their courage served to keep many of the others interned with them from breaking under the dual pressure of miasma and orc spite.

Not everyone is as lucky. Even more so than in Morrow, it is too easy to give in to despair and seek escape from life as a captive of the Druj. There are stories of whole spires - including at least one shrouded beneath a veil of Night magic - where surcease of sorrow and a chance to seek reincarnation through the Labyrinth seem like the only option. The Druj, it is said, hate and fear this gift of Kaela. It robs them of their slaves - worse it robs them of the chance to torment them. Once it is clear death is certain, not only can their victims deny them the pleasure of torture but they leave no bodies behind to display to spread fear among their remaining prisoners.

Only the bravest warbands risk infiltrating Occursion and [Zenith#Lustri|Lustri]] - it would be all too easy to get cut off, trapped deep in enemy territory with nowhere to flee to save the Mallum or Spiral. There seem, paradoxically, to be fewer Druj here and thus fewer prisoners. There are exceptions - but here the problem is that once a group of Urizen is liberated, they must still be escorted long distances to get them to safety.

As the season goes on, it becomes harder and harder to take the Druj unawares - there are more patrols, and the preparedness of orc garrisons increases. But even so, the Druj cannot be everywhere at once. Zenith is a wild country - and for once the wilderness between the spires plays into the hands of the Urizen rather than the invaders. There are stories of desperate flight; of hiding silently beneath bridges while Druj patrols pass overhead; of rocks sent tumbling down to seal narrow passes; of a whole spires worth of adults and children floating down the river on makeshift floats under the very noses of orc garrisons.

Some warbands report unlooked for allies in the raid into Zenith. A handful of the baleful hounds summoned to help protect Morrow appear to have taken it upon themselves to accompany a few of the groups risking all to liberate the people of Zenith. They are particularly drawn to champions with draughir blood, and fight savagely alongside them when they engage Druj. Their influence is not entirely benign, however. Those draughir who accept their aid quickly begin to turn savage, like black mirrors held up to the Druj they oppose.

In other parts of the territory, especially in Proceris and Lustri, there are reports of heralds of both Spring and Night realms emerging from the marshes and the woods to offer aid to groups of freed slaves, helping them get to safety. They will not fight the Druj directly, for the most part, but there are stories of sudden mists that rise from the woods to confuse pursuit, or twists in the weather that send torrential rain to cover trails, and even one incident of a great trees rousing itself briefly to life to smash the life from a Druj sentry before freezing back into immobility once more.

It takes the better part of three months, but as the last heroes stumble back into Redoubt and Morrow from Zenith, it becomes possible to appreciate the true scale of what has been achieved. Thousands of people, thousands of magicians, farmers, sentinels, priests, children, artisans, soldiers... thousands rescued from under the very noses of the Druj. Among those thousands, more than seven hundred soldiers from the Granite Pillar, the Valiant Pegasus, and the Seventh Wave and over two hundred sentinels eager to join with the Citadel Guard and strike a blow of their own against the enemies of Urizen. These people have kept themselves alive in the certain knowledge that the Empire has not forgotten them, and now that trust has been repaid.

Game Information: Morrow

The Empire has recaptured both Caeli and Peregro, and suffered no casualties in the process. This success means that the Citadel Guard is no longer in decline - it will not require any additional support from the Imperial breadbasket unless Urizen loses more valuable or fertile regions in the future.

While the Druj left behind several warbands, it is the opinion of the commanders of the Towerjacks that the majority of them have been rooted out and destroyed before they could find appropriate havens. It is unlikely that any significant force has evaded the attention of the Imperial armies - even in a territory as wild as Urizen.

Game Information : Zenith

The raid into Zenith has been a total success. Two thirds of the people trapped under the domination of the Druj have been freed and returned to safety in Morrow and Redoubt. That includes 250 troops from each of the three Highborn armies who, despite the horrors they have endured, are resolute in their desire to rejoin the armies and fight the enemies of the Empire. A further 250 sentinels, likewise fired with the desire to fight, have joined the Citadel Guard, boosting their numbers.

Participation : Morrow and Zenith

If you have the draughir lineage and have spent the last season in Morrow you experience a powerful roleplaying effect: your innate pack mentality is greatly strengthened, making you extremely protective and jealously possessive to family and friends, but with a strong tendency to view strangers and acquaintances as immediate threats, rivals, and even enemies. You feel an urge to exert dominance over those you view as “owing fealty” to yourself, and you find it very easy to assume that those you protect will treat you with reverence.

The roleplaying effect is even more pronounced after nightfall, especially if you can see the moon. The effect will fade slowly - the stronger your lineage the more it will linger and the very strongest lineage will find the roleplaying effect lingers at least until the end of the event.

If you are a draughir who lead their military unit into Zenith, you may choose to roleplay that one of those peculiar hounds accompanied your warband, and experience the roleplaying effect detailed here. Furthermore, if you are from Highguard or Urizen (only) and possess the hero skill, then for the duration of the Spring Equinox your maximum number of hero points is increased by one. This benefit only applies to Highborn or Urizen draughir who used their military unit to take the Strike against Zenith downtime action and only while you are experiencing the roleplaying effect mentioned above.

You can carry that weight with an iron will

Carve Away the Stone

Into Darkness

It has been six months since that bright Summer morning when the four armies of Dawn marched across the Golden Causeway and joined with the Golden Axe to conquer Ossium. Now the territory no longer belong to the Druj; following the fall of the Tower of the Scorpion, the Imperial Senate has declared it to be part of Varushka. Settlers and wagon raiders make the perilous journey east from Karsk looking to found their fortunes in the new land. The Tower of the Scorpion now holds a garrison of schlacta; the civil service has set up offices in Lomaa. Slowly but surely, civilisation is coming to the newly conquered territory.

But the Druj are not quite defeated. Parts of the territory remain in their hands as 383YE dawns. The armies of the Mallum have been hard pressed, pushed south into Nearweald and the marshy depths of the Drownbark Forest where scouts report they are preparing to make a stand against the Empire. Along the borders, the armies of Dawn and Varushka prepare for what many hope will be the final push that will surely see the entirety of Ossium in Imperial hands.

The human armies are not alone, however. In the weeks immediately following the Winter Solstice five armies of Thule head south from their domain in the Bonewood to join the Imperial forces along the borders of Nearweald and the Drownbark Forest. They march ultimately under the command of Grand Warlock Fljajokull, who leads the Talons of the Wind. They proceed cautiously, vigilant against any threat of betrayal by the Emire. Nearly thirty thousand orcs, all told. The Chasm of Thunder. The strange and savage Dance of Binding. The powerful Banner of the Rime Hound, accompanied by all manner of strange beasts from the northern wastes. The Shard of Winter, their banners embroidered with the rune of Pallas and Tykonus in golden thread, who pick over the dead when they fall and pocket their treasures.

Glorious soldiers of the Eastern Sky. Ossium is now a part of our Empire! Now we clean the Druj filth from our lands. Standing alongside our Thule allies, we will be the implacable scythe that cuts down the weeds. Steady conquest of the rest of Ossium, our next chapter in the Destruction of the Druj! Great deeds are eternal.

Vincent 'The Scorpion' Vexille, General of the Eastern Sky

The commanders of each force liase regularly with their Imperial counterparts. In such meetings Grand Warlock Fljajokull takes the lead, advised from time to time by a quiet female orc, her face hidden by a voluminous blue hood, to whom he listens intently. She is not one of the commanders of the army, and unlike the other warlock she is neither attired in mage armour nor equipped with rod or staff. Yet Fljajokull and the others show her great deference, and neither introduce her nor answer any questions about her presence.

We will stand ready. Axes Sharp, Teeth Bared for what will come

Katia Strascovich, General of the Golden Axe

Spirits of Dark Water

There is a great deal of magic in Ossium in the wake of the Winter Solstice, and very little of it is Imperial in nature. The armies of the Thule have their own enchantments, of course, but this season the Dawnish fight without the support of the Fields of Glory. In the absence of the wonderful elfin nights of Eleonaris, the weight of the atmosphere of dread that blankets the Druj territory presses hard on many of the knights and yeofolk. They have always been aware of it, felt its spidery fingers at the back of their mind, but as the armies of Dawn ready to march south from Galath Fields and east from Bittershore, it seems more potent somehow.

The weather does not help, either. After the Winter Solstice it improves somewhat - the near constant torrential downpour ends at least - but that merely means that the natural Winter weather simply reasserts itself. It sleets most days. Chunks of ice form in open water, and the nights are cloudless, clear, and cold. Being warm and dry becomes a luxury, and it is a rare soldier who does not develop a sniffle, or a cold, or in some cases a full-blown fever.

Knights of the Sun, Ossium is now Imperial Soil. We need to finish the Job. We will Grind our way to Victory and complete the conquest. Our allies the Thule will be Alongside us, we will not attack them. Death to the Druj!

Zoran De Orzel, General of the Golden Sun

The Thule, perhaps unsurprisingly, are less concerned about the cold than they are the forest. A few grudgingly offer advice to Imperial soldiers unused to the cold but for the most part they keep to themselves. While they are blasé about the weather, they tend to be much less sanguine about the forests in which they are fighting. There are few woodlands in Otkodov it seems, and those are inhabited by... The orcs do not go into detail, beyond the confines of a few grim stories of lurking horrors and hungry vallornspawn and angry spirits they swap with the Golden Axe.

Perhaps they are right to be nervous of the trees. The forests seethe with malign intelligence. Sometimes it seems every step is treacherous; more than one soldier breaks a leg or an arm or a neck as a tree root twists under them, or a seemingly strong branch snaps under their weight. As with the invasion of the Webwoods, the forests actively protect the Druj and hinder the Imperial and Thule armies. Those who stray too far from the main body of the armies risk being lost and falling prey not only to Druj ambushers but to more primeval threats.

The beasts of southern Ossium, roused by Druj magic, provide an unpleasant reminder of how dangerous the Mallum can be. The deathstinger for example, the totem of the Hupul, accounts for perhaps as many as fifty Imperial lives over the course of the invasion. As large as pigeons, flying in small groups, these atrocious red-and-black wasps seem to have no fear of humans, and inject a venom that can literally cause the heart of a warrior to explode in their chest. Then there are the snakes - not only the vicious coiled vipers that lurk in trees and drop on unsuspecting scouts but so many species of venomous reptile that it is impossible to number them all. Some take to sleeping in their boots - a strategy not without risks of its own but one that means that at least they will not be surprised by tiny brown snakes or vicious fist-sized scorpions or the little nests of thumb-sized spiders whose bite can paralyse an arm or leg and in some cases leave the victim's limb rotten and putrescent.

Not all the Druj magic is as obviously dangerous as this, however. As the Winter Solstice draws to a close, vibrant Spring magic bubbles up from the marshy ground and open water of the Drownbark Forest, and spreads quickly across the entire territory. It fills the waters - the streams and rivers, the scattered lakes, and the dank marshy pools - with life. Yet this is not quite the same as the ritual the Empire knows so well. While it heals wounds, it almost invariably leaves scars. In some rare cases, there are reports of warriors whose injuries have healed but who find themselves with unpleasant patches of fur or bristles, or spurs of bone, or scattered scales, or permanent mottling and discolouring of their skin in unsettling patterns. These aberrations can be treated - the offending area of skin carefully removed and the wound healed with more wholesome magic - but it adds to the feeling of oppression and corruption in the forests of southern Ossium.

Soldiers of the Pride! Our conquest of Ossium is nearly done, we now push on to take the remaining regions alongside our Thule allies, but after we will continue to expand the Empire's borders. To that end, we will take no unnecessary risks and preserve our numbers for greater glory ahead. For Glory! For the Empire!

Garravaine De Rondell, General of the Gryphon's Pride

A Dance of Shadows

The thick woodlands of Nearweald fall reasonably quickly before the allied forces. The first engagements are probing strikes - the Eastern Sky, Gryphon's Pride, and Hounds of Glory move carefully, a steady advance designed to minimise the loss of Imperial troops. The two Golden armies - the Axe and the Sun - are even more careful, both engaged in a slow probing of the enemy, ceasing their advance when they encounter an enemy. The Thule likewise engage in cautious conquest of Ossium. In some ways, these strategies heighten the fearfulness of the southern woods, especially the Drownbark Forest. It is all to easy to imagine that there are Druj ambushers lying in wait behind every tree, deadfalls and spike traps under every drift of leaves.

The Druj for their part are just as cautious. When they encounter Imperial forces they fight quickly and then retreat, falling back and giving ground before the Empire or the orcs of Otkodov are entirely aware they are present. It proves difficult to be sure how many orcs the allies are facing - they are simply too adept at concealing their numbers, of hiding until they are ready to strike. There are enough corpses recovered to guess at there being three distinct forces in the woods - bodies and armour are commonly decorated with burning lizards, with pallid ants, and with hooded serpents.

It is the will of the Five that we fight alongside the humans. It is the command of Tahenon the Gyre that the Druj fall beneath your spears, and it is his wrath that shall fall upon us if we prove ourselves to be weak. Yet we will take no risks, for the orcs of the Mallum are cunning and twisted, and lie in wait to punish the foolhardy and the vainglorious. We will be wise, and cautious, and we will claim victory because the Dragons will it.

Fljajokull, General of the Talons of the Wind

What few settlements are encountered in Nearweald tend to be abandoned, and littered with traps. One Varushkan suggests stopping exploring them altogether and simply firing their roofs as soon as they are encountered - assuming that the sodden thatch and peat will light at all.

In the Drownbark Forest, conditions are even worse. it becomes clear very quickly that the ground here is not sodden because of the recent rains but because that is its natural condition. It is a great marsh, stinking and treacherous, overgrown with moss-swathed trees and divided into hundreds of islands by cold rivers, streams, and pools. Some Druj take advantage of the ground water - infused as it is with healing magic - to launch horrible ambushes. They hide beneath the surface of the water, breathing through hollow reeds, or lie in wait half buried in liquid mud, or cover themselves in moss and bark to camouflage themselves against the trees. They attack only when they have completely surrounded their unsuspecting victims, or allow them to pass thinking the area is safe and then attack from behind, or fall on the next group to pass through. It is noted that most of those who use such tactics bear tattoos, or have their armour decorated with, images of hooded serpents. The Thule name them "Hidden Snakes" and spit onto the mud when they do so.

There is a price to be paid and the right time and place for this. While we remember the glorious dead, Owain Sepulchre, former adjutant to the Hounds we must prepare to pay the cost, but not now. Now we will Steadily Conquer the remainder of Ossium, being aware of the Ambushes and traps, seek to conserve Imperial lives and fight alongside our Thule Allies. Death to the Druj!

Tancred, General of the Hounds of Glory

Nearweald falls first - the Druj caught in a pincer between allied forces moving south from Galath Fields and east from Bittershore. Some retreat south, across the borders of Ossium into Farweald in the Barrens. Others flee east, and reinforce the defenders of the Drownbark Forest.

Secrets and Mysteries

The only major settlement in the southern forests - or rather the only one the allies find - is in Drownbark Forest. A rude mass of buildings covers the broad sweep of a great, shallow, weed-choked lake. There are some defences - sharpened spikes and wooden palisade and deep ditches full of stinking, diseased water. Here and there are broad pools of hungry mud that suck down any foolish enough to mistake them for solid ground.

The allies have seen such things before, however. The "town" of Orieb falls quickly; those who do not flee are slain. With it, it seems, the spirit of the Druj is broken. Imperial troops search the settlement, finding clear signs that the town had some significance to the Druj. While many of the buildings are rude, there is a sprawling palace of weirwood and stone half sunken into the lake at one end, its many maze-like rooms full of opulent furnishings. Serpents and scorpions and spiders leer from every tapestry, and are carved into the walls and ceilings. It would take days to map the Palace of Orieb, and the armies have more pressing concerns - namely ensuring the last of the Druj are driven from Ossium.

At the same time Orieb and its squalid finery are falling to the allied forces, however, something unexpected happens. Reports are confused - there are few actual Imperial eyewitnesses, primarily from the Golden Axe.

For much of the invasion, the Thule have been as cautious and careful as their human counterparts. In the immediate aftermath of the battle to capture Orieb, however, that changes suddenly and without warning. A major force of Thule suddenly surges ahead past the advancing line. The Shard of Winter recklessly carves a path past Orieb, angling towards the east, where by all accounts they intercept a column of Druj attempting to escape into the Forest of Ulnak.

The northern orcs fall on the orcs of the Mallum without mercy, and with little concern for traps or ambushes. The conflict is vicious - the Druj fight like cornered rats while the Thule battle with grim efficiency. For some reason, the Druj refuse to flee - abandoning their usual tactic of melting into the marshes and the woods when they are outclassed. Other Thule forces move to try and support the Shard of Winter but they are too far out of position for them to reach them in time to make a difference.

It doesn't seem they need the help however - this splinter force of Druj is outnumbered and outclassed. One by one they fall beneath the Thule axes and spears.

Then, from the south-west, another Druj force appears. They are hooded, and cloaked, with heavy scarves over their faces, and they emerge without warning from the dark between the trees... and fall not on the Thule but on their fellow Druj. Caught between the fury of the Thule and the treachery of their fellows, the orc column is torn to pieces. The Thule rally, to face the newcomer Druj, but as swiftly as they appeared they are gone, fled south through the trees.

By the time the Talons of the Wind and the Golden Axe arrive, the fighting is done. There is no doubt though, claim the Varushkan soldiers, that the Thule of the Shard of Winter are not happy - in as much as those humourless northern orcs are ever happy. The warriors of the Shard of Winter stripped and searched every body - something they had been doing throughout the campaign - claiming valuables from their defeated opponents while the other Thule kept watch.

Something is going on, say the Varushkans darkly. But they have no idea what.

A Task Completed

After that, after the capture of the Palace of Orieb and the peculiar actions of the Thule, there is little more left to do than mop up. The main Druj forces have fled Ossium to the south and east. There are still plenty of dangerous threats in the new Varushkan territory - there are Druj in hiding everywhere it seems, and who knows what might be lurking beneath the trees in the trackless forests.

It feels like a comprehensive victory - the Empire has lost fewer than five hundred soldiers. The Thule likewise seem to have emerged largely unscathed. The Druj by contrast have suffered many losses - but it is difficult to do more than estimate how many given the conditions the campaign has been waged under. Perhaps a thousand? Perhaps more. Perhaps less. The lion's share of the Druj deaths were caused by the armies of Otkodov - their strategy was significantly less concerned with reducing their own casualties than that of the Empire.

Such details are a matter for another day. What matters is that the allied forces are victorious. The Druj are beaten, driven out, and the entire territory - apart from the northern Bonewood of course - belongs to the Empire.

Game Information : Ossium

The allied Imperial and Thule forces have been victorious. All of Ossium is now in allied hands, and the Druj armies have been driven out of the territory. It is difficult to say how the campaign might have gone without the support of the Thule but it seems very unlikely the Empire would have claimed both Nearweald and the Drownbark Forest had they been on their own.

Good News First

I'm still not really sure what started that fight...

Brocéliande

In the east, in the trackless forests of Brocéliande, the vallorn is stirring. Since the Autumn Equinox, it has been a tide in flood, gaining in power and momentum as it strives to flex, to expand, to fill all the available space in the territory as it once did, in the years after the city fell. It has no heart - it lives equally in all things that are of it - in Husks and ettercaps and abominations, in every deranged human servant, in every strange plant, and soil and the water and the air itself. While part of it takes the form of enemies that can be slain, it is no more a creature than an avalanche or a hurricane or a forest fire. The Navarr must endure its catastrophic rise, or be swept away, losing what little foothold they have gained in that dark forest that shrounds lost Terunael beneath its whispering boughts.

This is the second season of conflict, but the Navarr do not fight alone. In response to the words of a troubadour of Dawn, knights come to the greenwood. Out of the north come two score questng knights and knights errant with their bright companies of knights and yeofolk come to Brocéliand to seek glory in the battle against the unnatural spawn of the deep forest. Some come for other reasons - for virtue, or in search of a grand challenge, or to reinforce the bond between the nobles of Semmerholm and the brands of Boar's Dell perhaps. Regardless of their reason, their aid is invaluable in turning the green tide.

From the south, in answer to the call of the priests of Highguard comes aid in the form of soldiers, and supplies. Grim-faced monks, pilgrims in grey hoods, cataphracts and unconquered, all take up arms to aid the Navarr. Just as valuable is support of a softer nature - some congregations send herbs, or supplies, or come not to fight but to minister to the soul and heal the body of those who do fight. The Navarr are human, after all, and Highguard serves the destiny of all humankind.

Not all the aid is natural; the eternal Tharim on his bitter throne has been given leave by the vates of Navarr to devour the herb gardens and forests of Miaren, Therunin, and Hercynia. As his servants glut themselves, feasting on the wholesomeness of the trees and plants, so he sends his barons and knights and wizened witches to Brocéliande to aid the defenders there.

A cadre of sneeering bone-armoured knights come to Boar's Dell, appearing at dusk nine days after the Winter Solstice. Where they walk, they leave a patina of frost behind them. Snow falls where they erect their coal-black tents, from within the shadows of which come the sound of whispering chains. They fight with crude iron flails, and scourges made of spiked chains, that tear andd blight flesh and bark with equal ease.

To Elerael in the south comes a baron - Poena of the soft voice, third of the three who came to the Empire from the copse of the Bone Birch. Wrapped in tattered black wool and faded leather in mockery of Highguard, her ivory face hidden by a great enshrouding hood, she draws the dead to her, binding them with chains of words and obligation. They throng around her, forming bodies from leaf-mould, and old bones, and scraps of hide. She arms them with rusted implements of torment and slaughter, and they follow in her wake as she walks beside the thorns, ignoring the many questioning glances they direct toward here.

And deep in the vallorn's embrace, a circle of withered, dry-as-dust warlocks, their eyes bound with dusty bandages surround the Broch. As they freeze into place, heads bowed, arms outstretched like maleficent mannequins, a cold wind touches every plant within the compass of their ring, withering it, killing ivy and tree alike. But for the rest of the season those vallornspawn who approach too closely take sick, and flee back into the forest. If those sheltered within the Broch suffer nightmares each night - dreams of failure, torment, guilt, and despair - it is perhaps a price many are willing to pay for the certainty that their steading will endure.

Thirty five bands of Navarr warriors - and one band of supernatural warriors in blackened chain with great shields and heavy maces - come to Brocéliande, to protect Elerael, and Boar's Dell, and the steadings that still stand beneth the malign gaze of the vallorn. By themselves, they would have saved Boar's Dell, but they would have lost the Broch, and the vallorn would have surged into Elerael and begun to avage it. Even with the aid of Tharim, bought at so high a price, they would still have lost the Broch. Only with the full support of their neighbours to the north and south did they have a hope of holding the vallorn back for another season.

But they did receive that aid, and they did hold the vallorn back for another season, and the Broch did endure.

Yet for all that... the tide of the vallorn does not slacken. As the Spring Equinox draws closer, it is notable that the miasma is thickening, that ettercaps and abominations larger than anything seen so far are reported in the forest, and that more and more ancient husks are emerging from the depths. The battle so far has been hard, but it is clear that this paticular crisis is very far from over.

And nor is it the only crisis, although the situation brewing in the west seems to be much more mundane in quality.

... But I still get this feeling there's more trouble ahead.

Liathaven

The first the Empire learns about the attack in Liathaven is when the surviving half of Bonering striding make it out of the forest into Bregasland pursued by orcs. The Jotun clash with Marcher bounders and yeofolk who come to the aid of the Navarr. As soon as they encounter resistance, the Jotun fall back into Liathaven.

Over the next few weeks, more information slowly filters out of the former Navarr territory. A large Jotun army has come across the border from Hordalant into West Ranging. Their numbers are swollen by the addition of thousands of Summer knights - heralds from the Fields of Glory - who take the form of orc-like warriors with spreading antlers.

What little information there is suggests these orcs march under the banner of Bear Who Swims - and that they have conquered almost the entire West Ranging in a single season. They quickly overrun the token Imperial presence in West Ranging, and by the time the wider Empire even knows they are there, they have reportedly already set up several armed camps across the region. One of those camps is in the ruins of the old steading of Silent Stand which watches over the northern gateway to the Paths of Lan Thúven - the magical path that allows Navarr armies to pass through the vallorn infested Westwood unmolested.

While the Empire liberated West Ranging during their fight with the vallorn, the rest of the territory remains notionally in the hands of the Jotun - at least those parts of it that are not in the possession of the vallorn. If the Bear Who Swims complete their conquest of West Ranging, they will again control all parts of the territory that are not under the sway of the vallorn.

The Jotun, however, are not the only people in Liathaven. The Feni of the Woods-That-Fell, at least those who came south through the Marches, are also in the northern woodlands, their numbers apparently swollen by the survivors from the raid into Alderley. It's not clear how the Feni will react to the presence of the orcs.

There are also a scattered few Navarr, still clinging stubbornly to their forest and striving to restore the trods that once connected the vallorn here to the rest of the Empire. If there is one positive piece of news from Liathaven - albeit tentatively positive - it is that the Jotun do not seem to be going out of their way to slaughter the Navarr they encounter. Perhaps the efforts of the generals to present a more honourable face to the westeren orcs have paid off. They still receive no quarter, and are not offered the Choice, but rather than execute prisoners the Jotun drive the Navarr out, killing only those who refuse to flee before them.

The presence of the Jotun most likely puts an end to any Navarr hope of driving the vallorn out of the Westwood, unfortunately. Time is running out - even with the powerful Winter magic lying over the territory the vallorn will have recovered too much strength to be uprooted by the start of the Summer Solstice.

Game Information : Brocéliande

The vallorn has been held back in Brocéliande, in part thanks to the aid from the knights of Dawn and the congregations of Highguard. As mentioned in the wind of fortune, any Dawnish character who supported the Slow the Vallorn action will receive additional rewards representing the support of the noble houses and villages of Astolat and Semmerholm for those champions of Dawn who face the dangers of Brocéliande. Likewise, the positive effects of the [When_all_the_land_is_in_ruins#Highguard_:_The_Blade_of_the_Pilgrims|Highborn mandate]] have been felt, in the form of additional warriors and support. We have not yet applied the penalty that is a consequence of the mandate - it will instead be felt in the next downtime and persists for one season after the benefits end.

At the same time, Tharim is feasting on the forests and herb gardens of Hercynia, Therunin, and Miaren; each such resource loses a rank of production for the next year, but the Eternal will continue to provide support in Brocéliande for that whole time as long as he has amity of course.

The threat of the vallorn in Brocéliande is far from over; you can learn about how bad it has become here.

Game Information : Liathaven

The Jotun lightning strike has left them nine-tenths of the way toward conquering West Ranging and removing the last bit of Imperial presence in the woods. Further information is hard to come by - although there is a spy network in Liathaven and it is possible that anyone who supported it might know more.

Other Media

The folk from The Orcs Planet recorded audio versions of these winds of war which are available to watch on YouTube: The Mission,