381YE Winter Solstice winds of war

Overview

War never changes.

Hunting By The Rivers

The Seventh Wave will not fail. We will not allow Zenith to be taken. Our foe may have numbers but we will not fall and we will not fail.

General of the Seventh Wave

During the Autumn Equinox, the Druj forces in Zenith moved against the Golden Cascade. A series of terraces and aqueducts carved into the foothills, it was supported both by powerful ritual magic, and great polished mirrors that ensured the fields received as much sunlight as possible all year round. The Golden Cascade was seen by many as a wonder of the Empire. Now it is gone.

The eastern orcs turned a monstrous marshwalker loose against the great dam that controlled the flow of water to the terraced farms. The creature tore the white granite wall apart, unleashing a deluge of freezing water across the foothills - a devastating flash flood that swept away everything in its path. The farms are ruined, the aqueducts shattered, the great golden mirrors cast down. Thousands of ushabti are destroyed and scores of farmers drowned in the relentless flood.

The catastrophe is epic in scale; many refugees fleeing across the plains from Lustri and Occursion are caught by the waves of water, and those who manage to find higher ground are easy prey for the murderous Druj. The Highborn armies defending Zenith - Seventh Wave, Granite Pillar, and Valiant Pegasus - are forced to withdraw, barely making it out of Proceris before the disaster strikes. The Druj armies, expertly positioned and well-practiced in the art of fighting in treacherous, boggy conditions, sweep in behind the flood claiming the defences the Highborn have abandoned.

The people of Urizen need us now more than ever! The venomous water has been purified and we must hold the last region! We make a strategic defence of Zenith and coordinate with both the Seventh Wave and Valient Pegasus. Hold your ground!

General of the Granite Pillar

If there is a single bright side to the disaster, it is that the cold water from the mountains is surprisingly pure even after it has swept across the plains. Indeed, under the noonday sun the water seems to sparkle with a hard-to-define golden radiance. A potent enchantment has been lain across Zenith that purifies liquids of all sorts, separating off any corruption or poison. The Urizen fleeing the Druj have no lack of fresh drinking water, and the potent magic also serves as a measure of protection from envenomed blades and infected wounds.

The Golden Cascade is a significant loss, but it is not the only blow to the people of Urizen. The Druj also overrun the Arch of the Sky, a collection of spires on the tallest mountain in Zenith, where stargazers from all of the Empire once gathered to discuss and debate the Net of the Heavens, comparing their astral observations to the history and present state of the Empire and the wider world. The Druj flood waters do not reach the spire itself of course, but even as the dam is being smashed apart Druj guerillas are moving into position. Many of the astronomancers and star-watchers have already retreated, but a handful of magicians and sentinels remain behind in the hope of holding the orcs at bay. Such hope is in vain. The eastern orcs take and loot the spires, and before turning their attention back to the flooded plains they burn the proud observatories and libraries. What they cannot take with them is reduced to ashes.

The Highborn armies stand between the Druj and total control of Zenith

Everywhere the citizens of eastern Zenith flee west. Those who can make it to the foothills in the west, where the Seventh Wave wait, are safe. Those left behind meet grim fates. Hunted, enslaved, tormented … the Druj are savage and without mercy. The barbarians seem to treat the pursuit almost as a game, taking grim pleasure in peppering the fleeing Urizen with arrows in the last moments before they reach sanctuary. The Highborn do what they can, but all too few manage to escape the combination of floodwater and Druj malice.

The general of one of the orc armies, those who fight beneath the banner of the crimson snake, takes great pleasure in tying prisoners to stakes on low ground, leaving them to starve to death or drown in the flood waters in full view of Highborn positions - as bait. Some of them are rescued, but many of those who attempt such rescues are captured by the Druj and staked out in their turn.

A week or so after the Equinox there is a moment of uncertainty for the Druj when two Freeborn armies march through the grand pass from Spiral known as the Twilight Gate. The broad pass through the mountains allows the Red Wind Corsairs and the Fire of the South to avoid the worst of the destruction, and there are many mariners and corsairs among the soldiers who are able to employ their professional skills to craft makeshift rafts when they have to. The Druj launch a few probing strikes against the soldiers of the Brass Coast - but these cautious attacks are easily shrugged off. The Freeborn are not here to fight - they quickly pass through Proceris, and without pause push on westward through Clypion and Iteri, and then south into Redoubt.

The Druj consolidate their gains, but the armies do not press beyond Proceris. That is not to say that there are no Druj in Clypion - there are small groups of scouts, guerillas, and even assassins who move quietly through the hills but the vigilance of the Granite Pillar prevents them from achieving more than a few minor acts of banditry and barbarism. While the Highborn still hold Clypion, the westernmost region of Iteri is relatively safe.

Stand with our brothers and sisters and hold Zenith. Heal those who fall, both military and civilian. Fight with the virtue of the Highborn. We will not allow people to fall to the Druj.

General of the Valiant Pegasus

Several spires there have taken in cousins and friends from the conquered western territories, but the Urizen are not well-suited for dealing with displaced population. Too many people in too small a space, drawing on too sparse a supply of food ... The Valiant Pegasus offer what aid they can, and set up makeshift camps to house the refugees, but many prefer to continue north into Morrow looking for somewhere to stay among their own people.

As the Winter Solstice draws near, the floodwaters have largely settled. The Druj have claimed almost all of Proceris - a concerted push against the remaining Highborn defences and they will control the entire sodden plain - and with it the territory of Zenith.

Game Information: Zenith

The Druj have further consolidated their hold on Lustri and Occursion, and hold nine-tenths of Proceris. The Highborn defenders along the western border of the region are all that stand between the Druj and control of Zenith.

The precise extent of the damage to Zenith is not clear at this time, but the Golden Cascades are utterly ruined. These farms represented a great work that provided a significant amount of food to the spires of eastern Urizen. Going forward, all farms in Zenith suffer a penalty of 18 rings production each season due to the lack of good quality farmland in the wake of the catastrophe. Furthermore, attempts to build a fortification in Proceris are likely to encounter additional costs and difficulties. It may be possible to counter these problems, but not until the current conflict with the Druj is settled.

Confirmation has been received from refugees that the Druj have destroyed the Starlight Drift of Shimmering Snow, the Tower of the Fall, the Storm Vault, and Origen's Rest. The titles associated with these sinecures still exist, but provide no benefits. If the sinecures were rebuilt (assuming the Druj are driven out of Zenith), the current holders would resume their posts. Alternatively, if the current title holders had stepped down in the interim, the normal methods of appointment would apply.

The Memories Scarred

Steadily, mile by mile, the Marchers and their Navarr allies advance across the Mournwold. The last few scattered Jotun in Southmoor fall back into Liathaven before the first Imperial soldiers reach them. With a vital extra season to evacuate their thralls, the fields of Southmoor are eerily empty. A scattering of orcs are all that remain, the human thralls having long since moved to greener pastures in other parts of the Mourn.

Soldiers of the Stong Reeds, the time has come to finish what has been started ... it is time to end the campaign in the Mournwold. For the Marches and for the Empire!!

General of the Strong Reeds

Southmoor was the last region lost to the Jotun during the original invasion, and is the last to be freed The final major settlement to be liberated is old Sarcombe, perhaps appropriately. Once a prosperous Marcher town, trading with the Navarr in Liathaven, it was broken to ruins during the fighting three decades ago. It has long since been transformed into a fortified Jotun hall keeping a careful watch east, to the Greensward, and to Tassato. Some of the town buildings still stand, but the castle that surmounted it is no more. The western orcs have torn Hillstop down themselves, rather than allow it to fall into the hands of the Empire. The once rich market town of Sarcombe is a broken ruin again.

Right soldiers, WE FINISH THIS. Our boots will tread the fields so our landskeepers can once again take the lands of the marcher soil of mournwold. ... Share your rations with the newly liberated marchers, and save your best goole fledged arrows for the Jotun. Our work starts in Southmoor and we don't stop 'til we see the Green March back in our control!

General of the Tusks

The story is the same in Green March. There are a handful of Jotun warbands that are still in the process of retreating from the Mourn, but they mostly fall back as soon as they see the slightest sign of Imperial forces. Again, not many thralls have been left behind - scattered families of stubborn humans and a smattering of orc thralls who seem to have picked up their neighbour's grim determination to hang on to "their" land. Their masters lacked the time, or the spirit, to argue with them, abandoning them as they retreated.

Most of the Mournwolders who remain tend to be older - men and women in their forties and fifties who still remember life as part of the Empire. Some of the young people have left with the Jotun, following the only life they have ever known. Of the very old and the very young, there are all too few, a bitter legacy of the curses that were used to retake the land from the orcs.

Thorns, the Jotun have been harried by our forces in Liathaven. They will come to drive us out, but will not find us. We march to the Mournwold ... and will carve a new road to Liaven's Glen. As we pass through Kharaman, expect to take on a reinforcement of materials for our apothecaries and vates which were made possible by the aid of the Spider King, whose support of the Nation earns our gratitude.

General of the Quiet Step

The Marchers are not the only soldiers in Mournwold. The Navarr of the Quiet Step march up through the Greensward to join in the liberation of the Mournwold, keen to secure the western borders and access to the forests of their own conquered territories. There is something peculiar at work among the thorns and brands, however. Something supernatural. The army is accompanied by a larger-than-usual number of vates - the elite Navarr magicians - and by creatures that are clearly neither human nor orc. A few worried landskeepers opine that these are heralds of the Spring realm, but what they are doing with the Quiet Step is difficult to say. The Quiet Step seem almost disappointed that there are no Jotun to slay. Whatever private business it is that they are about they are given a wide berth by the citizens of the Mournwold.

Good Bounders last season we returned the Mourn to Imperial control. This season we finish the job. Push the last of the Jotun from our lands; let the beaters once again beat the bounds of all the Marches. Look to our landskeepers and our physicks to heal the land and the people as we advance streadily to regain our borders.

General of the Bounders

Finally, at High Courage, the remains of a hastily abandoned camp are found. A mournful red and black banner, the banner of Gudmundur Arason, Jarl-of-Jarls, King of Narkyst, flutters before the great stag statue. A reminder and a promise, perhaps.

Game Information : Mournwold

Now then my merry lads and lasses, the end is nigh and the job is almost done. One last push, one last effort and the entirity of the Mournwold will return to its people. The Jotun have demolished Hillstop, their armies have fled and we are now unopposed. Let our steady advance take the first marcher army to the borders of Liathaven. First Southmoor and finally onto Green March, that is where we march. So long as no Jotun oppose us, I want the wealth of Mitwold to fill our coffers and use this oppertunity to rearm and re-equip.

General of the Drakes

The Marchers, and thus the Empire, now control all of Mournwold. There is no significant opposition - the Drakes for example are in a position to benefit from their popular support and actually able to resupply while on active campaign.

Despite the best efforts of the Jotun, the castle at old Sarcombe - what the Jotun once called Hillstop - could probably be rebuilt by the Empire. The civil service are still looking into the possibilities of rebuilding Hillstop, the Tribute, and Orchard's Watch now that the Jotun have fled. They are also compiling a list of spoils of war to present to the Imperial Military Council, and may also suggest other opportunities to help restore the Mournwold.

The Quiet Step has permanently changed it's army quality from scouting to cunning.

The political situation in the Mournwold is still uncertain, however. Some steps have been taken to address their concerns, such as the commission of several fortifications, for example, but the Singing Caves still remains unallocated by the Imperial Senate. There will be further updates about the situation in the Mourn in Winds of Fortune, but for now the situation remains tense.

Living in the Night

Once again we will be engaging in daring and devastating raids against our foes. We are traveling north into Zenith, swinging south west into Redoubt and joining the rest of the Imperial armies back in Spiral. There we will plunder our foes, rushing for screed, carry on bleeding them dry, and make these accursed Grendel realise this is not a war they can profit from! Fight for the Empress, fight for the Freeborn, fight for the Empire! But be careful of the Black Plateau, it's a bit shit there!

General of the Red Wind Corsairs

During the Autumn Equinox the Grendel sent an elite warband to collapse the Crow Road, the pass connecting Willstone in Redoubt with Cinon. Had they succeeded, the Imperial forces in Spiral would have risked becoming trapped, cut off from support, and easy prey for their barbarian opponents. Thanks to the swift intervention of Imperial heroes, the salt lords' strategy was stymied. Control of the pass proves crucial in the coming weeks. With the pass open, the Towerjacks are able to withdraw toward Sarvos to resupply, and the Green Shield and Iron Helms are able to move down to support the Imperial forces still engaged in Spiral.

It also allows the Fire of the South and the Red Wind Corsairs to make a daring march from their isolated position in northern Ossuary. They push north through the Twilight Gate, skirting the Druj armies in sodden Proceris, and coming round through Zenith and Redoubt to join the main Imperial force in Cinon. They are joined, to the surprise of many, by a small force from Axos. Three hundred agema and toxatai, under the command of Circe Icastos, daughter of General Dancia of Ipotavo. The skirmishers are newly arrived, having chartered swift vessels with the assistance of the Imperial ambassador to Axos. They are quiet, grim faced, and keep themselves to themselves. On reaching Spiral, they immediately present themselves to General Nicassia of the Citadel Guard - they are here to repay a debt to the Urizen who helped defend Ipotavo against the Druj.

Fire of the South, fastest army of the Empire, your fleetness is required once again. We will march north into Zenith, passing by the Highborn, southwest into redoubt, and then swing into spiral once more. Alongside the other Imperial armies we will enact a Steady conquest of Spiral, pushing for Screed and the Northwest Black Plateau. Our friends in Urizen fight against the Grendel occupation, we will come to their aid. The Grendel had a great victory over our navy. Let's give them a defeat that will make them fear the freeborn once more.

General of the Fire of the South

For nearly a month, though, the Wolves of War and the Citadel Guard hold Spiral alone against the combined might of the Grendel armies. They are not idle while they wait for their reinforcements; withdrawing soldiers from Ateri and Ossuary, they begin to slowly move south-east into the very heart of Spiral itself; the barren plains of Screed at the centre of which squats the malign presence of the Black Plateau.

The Grendel have effectively controlled Screed for nearly thirty years, sweeping across it largely uncontested in the final weeks of their original invasion, then again in the Summer of 379YE. There have been skirmishes, of course, but there has never been a significant military engagement in Screed between the Empire and the barbarians. Until now.

The Fire of the South, the Citadel Guard, and the Green Shields push slowly forwards south and east, carefully conserving their strength. The physicks and magicians who accompany them, bolstered by a number of priests, focus their attention on preserving the lives of their fellow soldiers - their lives and their spirits as well, perhaps. The Black Plateau continues to grumble. Everyone in Screed seems supernaturally aware of its location at all time - even when they cannot physically see it they know exactly where it is, and cannot shake the fearful impression that it is watching them. Some sensitive souls find the experience goes beyond unnerving and becomes unbearable.

Last season this army was led by the Imperatrix. Inspired by her mandate to preserve life we shall implacably advance into screed then onward into Ossuary. Bound as we are by common cause, all that fight alongside the wolves, be they citizens of the Empire or foreign mercenaries shall be treated with utmost respect. For this season we are one. All wounded and dead will be recovered and with reverence and respect returned to their people.

General of the Wolves of War

The disquiet is exacerbated by the presence of both the Iron Helms and the thousand shambling husks fighting alongside the Green Shields. The corpses ridden by flesh-hungry spirits of the Wasteland seem ... agitated ... by Screed. They are more vicious, and a little harder to control. Something about this place, about the gloom that pervades the arid valleys, makes them irritable. More brutal. Crueler. They rarely wait for their opponents to die before they start feeding on them, and it takes a strong will to call them off once the battle is engaged. There are even a few reports of incidents where the hungry dead have snapped at Imperial soldiers - never those of the Green Shield, but the warriors of the other armies begin to give the Wintermark force a wide berth.

The main bulk of the Imperial force is represented by the Wolves of War. Supported by nearly nine thousand additional troops lead by independent captains, their forces outnumber the other three armies put together. They are further supported by heavily armoured cohorts drawn from the Free Companies, and by a significant force of heavily armoured Imperial Orc reavers. The mercenaries are in the van, leading a steady grinding advance across Screed, consolidating gains and fortifying the Imperial position as they go.

The Iron Helms balance the need to claim ground with the desire to kill the southern orcs. Since the Fire of the South, Red Wind Corsairs, and the Green Shields will not fight alongside them; the Helms move north supported by the Wolves of War and Citadel Guard, while the main Imperial force sweeps south around the Black Plateau. The Varushkan army keeps their cruelty carefully leashed, but the Grendel are in no doubt as to their presence. Their dark banners, and the cloud of carrion birds that drift in their wake would be warning enough, but the presence of the Black Plateau seems to make their advance even more pronounced. They are a terror in the night, and not only for the barbarians; some Imperials speak in hushed tones of sweaty nightmares in which they were devoured by red-eyed soot-black hounds with iron teeth.

With most of the Imperial forces focused on claiming ground and preserving the lives of their soldiers, the Red Wind Corsairs enthusiastically seek opportunities to engage the Grendel directly. Coming after the successful raid against the Legacy last season, spirits are high and even the brooding malignancy of the Black Plateau can do little to quash them. With the words of the Freeborn assembly ringing in their ears, they launch daring raids against the Grendel supply camps. Their target is the wealth the orcs have accumulated there - crystal mana, magical ore, and the valuables stolen from conquered spires. More than a few, following the lead of the priests, take the opportunity to capture Grendel officers and ransom them back to their commanders for a healthy profit.

The orcs of the Broken Shore are a little on the back foot; their main forces are focused in Ateri, Ankra, and Ossuary. The main Grendel presence in Screed appears to be a dozen or so fortified camps, mostly built around captured Urizen spires. Scattered in a wide ring around the edges of Screed, they serve as supply depots and watchposts rather than significant fortifications. The first handful fall to the Empire before the Grendel can move their armies in to defend the others. There seems to be no significant Grendel force near the Black Plateau itself, and they are loath to engage the Empire in it's shadow - and truth be told, the soldiers of the Empire are no keener than the barbarians to get close to it.

If we take the plateau we can start to heal our land. If we take Ossuary we will free our allies and take the Legacy. The heroes have kept the pass open, our allies support us. Fight for our home, and make me proud.

Citadel Guard

Over the next few months, there are countless engagements between the Empire and the Grendel armies. Wherever possible, the barbarians try to control the battleground - falling back to defensive positions, moving through Ankra and Ateri to flank the Imperial advance, drawing their enemies into broken terrain the Grendel troops have previously scouted. Their eyes and ears are everywhere - adept scouts on both sides play a deadly game of cat and mouse through the foothills and barren valleys. But it is noticeable that their soldiers seem more cautious than normal, perhaps even a little more predictable - something has clearly put them on the defensive.

As the weeks wear on, the engagements become fewer in number but significantly more bloody. At first, probing raids from both sides are easily repulsed, but as the Empire takes more territory there is less room for the Grendel armies to manoeuvre. The two sides clash in larger and larger numbers.

There is more at work in Spiral than just humans and orcs fighting, however. This is Urizen, after all. Some far-ranging scouts from the Imperial armies make sorties far south as the coast. They bring back confusing reports of powerful magic at work in the waters of the Bay of Catazaar. They talk of spires of razor-sharp rock and coral erupting from the sea floor, and of a thick sea fog that rises without warning full of dancing lights and large hard-to-see shapes. Vessels berthed at the rebuilt port of Apulus are protection, but the magic plays havoc with any vessel at sea off the coast of Spiral.

Indeed, the scouts also report that the port at Apulus is more than rebuilt - it is significantly fortified. The Grendel appear to have built a castle on the southern coast with almost supernatural speed, and are using the garrison there to support their troops in the defence of their conquered territories.

Heroes of the Green Shield, the bond of loyalty and friendship take us once again to Spiral. We have bled for comrades, have been tested in wars great storm, but the storm can never break us. So stand and take up your shields, solid for the people of Spiral. Stand take up your spears, to strike swift these unworthy foes.

General of the Green Shield

Yet these enchantments pale beside magic neither side controls. The Black Plateau itself is here - and it is gathering power. While Imperial forces have encountered it's subtle, pervasive influence before they are not prepared for direct exposure to its madness. It seems to ebb and flow, and the dreams at least seem tied to the influence of the moon. On nights when the moon is dark, those who sleep in Screed experience dreams of despair and creeping paranoia. On nights when the moon is full and bright, their sleep is riven with dreams of blood and savagery flavoured by their darkest, hidden urges.

The dreams are only part of it. Even with the sun at its height, there are the phantasms and delusions; sometimes a half-familiar voice whispers from the shadow inside an empty tent. Sometimes one seems to spot and old friend, an enemy, a loved one in a crowd. Odd certainties come from nowhere - one confused band of Freeborn scouts reports with absolute confidence a major Grendel force moving along a dry river bed that on further investigation seem to have existed only in their minds. This tragic tale comes with a grim warning - while moving to intercept the imaginary force the Freeborn soldiers are flanked by a very real Grendel army coming from the south, and the Red Wind Corsairs are badly bloodied before they can pull back to defensive positions. Two of the scouts take their own lives in grief and shame.

There is a rash of suicides - not only soldiers taking their own lives in despair but raging warriors hurling themselves with bloody abandon against their enemies without thought for their own survival. The madness is infectious - a whole warband might suddenly break rank and attack the enemy without support leaving their commanders with a handful of seconds to decide whether to abandon the plan and support their maddened troops or leave them to die at the hands of the enemy. There are reports of Urizen sentinels abandoning poise, mutilating and torturing captured Grendel prisoners. Of League captains withdrawing their forces in disarray convinced that at any moment they will be overwhelmed by imaginary monsters. Of a Wintermark patrol found dead at each other's hands, the lone survivor sobbing a broken tale of betrayal and suspicion that boiled over into murder around the camp fire.

The only positive is that the Empire are not alone in suffering the baleful touch of Screed; the Grendel generals seem to be having just as much difficulty controlling themselves and their troops as their opposite numbers in the Empire.

Rod, and sword, and moon, and bow. We march to distant Urizen to repay a debt owed, to aid our western cousins as they have aided us. From the Throne of Day, Ipotavo watches, her eyes on those who act with certainty and reason.

Circe Icastos

Dreadful as the insidious effects of Screed are, the situation could have been much worse. The majority of both orc and human armies have chosen defensive approaches intended to minimise loss of life and it is just as well that they do. It is noticeable that the Iron Helms and the Red Wind Corsairs suffer more losses to the pernicious influence of the accursed ground than the other Imperial armies.

Despite their caution, the Grendel armies do not give ground easily. They are not fighting to the death to the defend the region but nor are they just falling back. It seems almost like a calculated effort to husband their resources, avoiding giving up any more land than they absolutely must while they wait for something. The Empire pushes them hard but by the time the next summit draws near the region itself remains in the hands of the orcs of the Broken Shore, and the only real change is the landscape itself. If the Black Plateau were grumbling before, now it is growling. If it was shifting restively in its sleep, now it is beginning to stir to wakefulness. But has it's appetite been sated by all the blood spilled... or merely whetted?

Game Information : Spiral

The Empire has made significant headway into Screed, but the Grendel still control the region. While everyone has been focused in the centre of Spiral, and the Grendel have been on the defensive, Imperial gains in Ankra (and their minor gains in Ossuary) have not been compromised - yet.

The influence of the Black Plateau has increased casualties suffered by both sides fighting in Spiral, and the situation appears to be getting worse. Anyone who wishes to roleplay there were present during the recent campaign is free to create their own horror stories of things they have encountered, based around themes of creeping fear, haunting phantasms, eerie dreams, gnawing suspicion, and outbursts of uncontrolled anger.

Furthermore, any Imperial general of one of the armies engaged in Spiral, and any character with a military unit assigned to support those armies, may e-mail profounddecisions.co.uk and volunteer to have been more profoundly effected by the Black Plateau than their peers. They will begin the next game cursed with a powerful roleplaying effect that may significantly influence their behaviour.

Finally, there are stone sea-spines and weird hypnotic fog rising off the southern coast that are playing havoc with shipping fleets. The spiny spikes fade with the coming of the Winter Solstice, but the odd mist and its peculiar lights show no signs of going away. Any fleet based in Spiral suffers a 50% penalty to its production this season, and will continue to do so as long as the seductive fog curse remains in place.