Phantasms and foam

Prize freedom and responsibility, and disdain arrogance.

Dream of Sleep

The Red Wind Corsairs have slipped through the grasp of the Grendel, and put to port in Feroz. Now, they sally forth for a new battle against an unfamiliar opponent. Marching a circuitous route through Segura, Kahraman and finally into Madruga, each village they pass through turns out to cheer and to offer cheap food and drink to the Freeborn soldiers. The Freeborn are not unfamiliar with marshes, and are very familiar with fighting in waterlogged environments and make preparations as they march. They carry with them a supply of coracles, of precious lumber for crafting rafts, and a surprising number of dry socks.

Alongside the soldiers of the Brass Coast is some two thousand force of additional soldiers. The majority are led by Freeborn captains, but Dawn, the Marches, and Urizen are also represented. Each brings their own particular experience to the mix: Dawn is no stranger to wild and dangerous places; the Marchers know marshland well; and even the most mundane Urizen soldier is likely to have some insight into the magical resonances that flow through the bayou.

This is the place. This has always been the place.

Silt and Dust

Before it was transformed, Siroc Bayou, and Crucible to the west, were once fertile grassland blanketed with farms. The land is just as rich as it was, but is now sodden with the magic-infused waters of the Scorrero. A great dripping expanse of trees, streams, ponds, pools, reeds, and everywhere flowers. Flowers in breathtaking variety, a riot of shade and shape that can be just a little overwhelming as it sweeps a patchwork quilt of colours in all directions.

The fecundity of Spring ripples in the waters everywhere, and life thrums through the marshlands. The natural creatures of the river - the birds, the fish, the little burrowing mammals, the insects - have prospered in the remade land. Yet Spring magic always brings a little chaos and ruin with it, wherever it rises, and the magic that helped give birth to this place was cruel in its own way. There are beasts here that have never been seen elsewhere. Ten-legged freshwater crabs that grow a little bigger each season and show no sign of stopping, their shells marbled with vibrant blues and golds and purples. Winged birds that flit and stutter through the air like living still lives caught in a lightning flash, their weirdly mobile beaks perfectly adapted for sipping nectar from the marsh flowers. Mobile mats of root and flower that drift seemingly aimlessly in the slower waters along the Bay of Oran, feeding on the fish too slow or foolish to avoid their lazy grasping tendrils. Enormous herons, taller than any Freeborn, with barbed beaks that hunt the giant frogs and the gliding newts that throng along the water-banks.

Corsairs, this season we commit to a Daring Raid upon the Siroc Bayou. Keep your weather eyes open for the lost wealth of the families displaced by the magical upheaval in these territories. What we can return we will, what we cannot, we return to the nation. Suffer no Suranni insult, but spill no foreigner blood. From the Bayou we will begin to retake the Crucible. For the Freeborn!

Joaquim i Erigo, General of the Red Wind Corsairs

Where there is life there is also death, but here in the south it is hidden beneath a great morass of rainbow colours. There has been war here, in past both recent and distant; humans and orcs have fought along the Scorrero for centuries. The waters of the wild river themselves have killed almost as many of those who worked the old ilium nets as the Grendel did - or at least that's what the stories say. For every body recovered from the waters, two more sank to the bottom and were smothered in silt. Now, something has given them a wake-up call it seems. The scouts talk of unnatural individuals, and small groups of skeletal battered remains stalking through the marshes, draped in flowers, moss, and mud that makes it impossible to tell if they were human or orc before time and water smoothed away such differences and made them irrelevant. They are not hostile, unless someone seeks to interfere with them or their odd activities. One Freeborn, a child of pre-Rahab Feroz, suggests that they are, against all the odds, tending to the marshes. Gardening, as she puts it.

Yet it is the transfiguring nature of Night that overlies both life and death here. Change, and wonder, and strangeness in the air. The land itself shifts over time, rivers and streams finding new courses with deliberate slowness. Attempts to map the Siroc Bayou, beyond locating major landmarks, proves tricky. Worse, once the Red Wind Corsairs are actually surrounded by the marsh - once it stretches from horizon to horizon - things become ever odder. The passage of time seems to become just a little unpredictable. The sun may seem to hang in the sky for an hour, unmoving, or it might judder quickly along its route, moving in the span of five minutes a distance that would normally take an hour. The moon is worse; within the marshes it seems always to be full and silver, and just a little larger than might be anticipated.

Where time is odd, distance and direction are even odder. It is as if the Siroc Bayou contains much more space than it ought to, that the marshes are larger within their borders than they have any right to be. The only constant is the river flowing to the south, but even then there are reports of strangeness. As one travels further into Siroc Bayou, the Scorrero seems to get wider. At one point, several weeks in, the Freeborn soldiers on the riverbanks find the fast-flowing river seems to be nearly three miles across, the shores of Feroz impossibly distant. There is discussion about where they may find themselves if they made rafts and poled across to the other side. Nobody would risk swimming in these waters, not here, not now.

In hindsight, the decision to enchant the army with powerful Day magic seems almost prescient. The enchantment helps patrols and expeditionary bands remain confident that they can find one another in the mysterious marshes. It helps the captains and commanders make sense of the alien quality of the Bayou, maintain their resolve and clarity in the face of strangeness. It helps scouts see through the subtle deceptions and camouflage this place seems to throw up almost instinctively against the Imperial advance.

Home calls. We have burnt brightly and fulfilled our loyalty to the Marchers. Now we head to Madruga to rekindle. We shall march to Lightsea and make use of the delights of Quzar. Keep an eye to the sea and your weapons to hand.

Velasco i Guerra, General of the Fire of the South

Regardless of all the strangeness, though, the Bayou does not appear to be overly dangerous. Unlike the marshes and swamps of Sarangrave, this place doesn't seem to be actively trying to kill the intruding Freeborn. Some soldiers wonder if this is due to the nature of the Brass Coast - that they are more open to wonder and strangeness than their fellow Imperials - but that idea is roundly mocked especially by the soldiers of other nations accompanying the army. As the weeks turn to months, the Red Wind Corsairs establish supply caches, campgrounds, and even a few watchtowers across the eastern Siroc Bayou. Step by step, it becomes just a little more known, a little more nailed down. A little more Imperial, a little more part of Madruga and the Brass Coast than it was.

Or rather, the marshes do not seem to be trying to kill the trespassers at first. But more of that in a moment.

Take Your Prize

The Suranni call on their Maiden of Battle to bless their final attack on the Children of Wrecks.

The destruction of the Shining Pillar was heartbreaking for many Freeborn.

At the same time as the Corsairs move south, the Fire of the South undertake the long march home from Bregasland. Even as their fellows press into terra incognita, they take up defensive positions around Quzar. Perhaps there is an irony to exchanging a billet near a Marcher marsh for one near a Freeborn marsh. They are no less welcomed than the Red Wind Corsairs, but they cannot help but bring with them a tinge of worry. They are here to look east, across the waters of the monster-haunted Quzar channel toward the islands of Free Landing. They are here to stand vigilant watch against the approach of the Iron Confederacy.

As the Corsairs explore the bayou, the Suranni forces in Feroz move. The Wings of Kobol - the navy that lead the assault against Cazar Straits - sweeps north across the Bay of Oran, toward Free Landing. They are not alone - a second force of warships sails with them. Between them they carry an uncertain number of Suranni soldiers, grim-faced heavily armoured soldiers of the south. Their intent is simple; smash the last of the Children of Wrecks and claim the islands where the Brass Coast began for the Iron Confederacy.

The Suranni are joined by a little over a thousand strength of Freeborn ship captains, invited to join the battle against the Children of Wrecks by the Dukes of the south. It is a chance to gain a little vengeance against those who have assailed the eastern Brass Coast time and again, but perhaps more importantly it is a chance to recover treasures from the islands before they fall under the dominion of the Dukes. The islands here were the first home of the Freeborn and the town of Atalaya marks the spot where the Brass Coast proper began, and has become something of a museum and archive of the history of the nation founded by Riqueza, Erigo, and Guerra all those centuries ago.

The watchers along the coast cannot of course guess what is going on in Free Landing, but there are certain signs. The weather deteriorates quickly once the Iron Confederacy engages. There are columns of smoke on the horizon, lightning flashes, rumbling in the deeps. Perhaps two months after the Spring Equinox, a near catastrophic tempest erupts across the islands, howling winds and torrential rains pounding Lightsea and Calvos Sound. Then, several hours late, the weather gets even worse but only for a few moments, after which an eerie silence falls. Then, perhaps an hour later, massive waves smash against the coast of Madruga, bringing with them the flotsam and jetsam of battle, the bodies of many dead pirates and servants of Siakha, and the strong suggestion that the fighting is over.

A few weeks later, the Freeborn corsair vessels that sailed with the Suranni arrive in Quzar - already mostly recovered from the weather and the waves thanks to skills earned with bitter experience. They carry with them in their holds a great many treasures of the Brass Coast thought lost forever - relics and archives - and the news that the Iron Confederacy has been victorious. The Children of Wrecks are broken, the Maw of Siakha has been closed.

Things are connected.

All Rivers are One River

When that mighty tempest erupts across Free Landing, and the massive waves pound the Brass Coast, the Red Wind Corsairs are deep in Siroc Bayou. They are making reasonable headway in their task, despite the sudden downturn in the weather. Yet that same night, with nine stars of the Web bright in the sky over the marshes, something shifts in the waters. The sentries at the main encampment established by the Freeborn soldiers report the approach of an armed force. Initially it is assumed to be a returning patrol, or perhaps some soldiers from the Fire of the South come to support their comrades in their conquest of the marsh. Then it becomes clear they are orcs, perhaps a lost Grendel cohort caught in the flooding of the Siroc.

The truth is significantly stranger, but no less dangerous. These orcs wear unfamiliar armour, and march beneath an unfamiliar banner - an orange flame on a black field. With them are two dozen warriors in archaic armour of a very old Highborn style, but wearing surcotes of ruby, and gold, and topaz. The starlight glints from the sharp weapons of human and orc alike, but more worryingly it also glints in their eyes which are like pools of starlight. The humans begin to sing a song of conquest and battle, and the orcs begin their own hymn of war, and together they fall upon the encampment. Battle is joined, violence blossoming like a red rose in an area the Corsairs thought secured.

Almost immediately the idea that this is some natural force, perhaps of bandits or... or something... is dispelled. When defeated, these attackers leave no remains behind. Body, weapon, armour, everything just disappears as soon as it is unobserved. They do not even leave bloodstains. Even the wounds their weapons inflict are not quite right. In the moment, blood sprays and bone breaks as normal but a moment later there is no sign of actual injury - but the pain remains. A cleft limb remains useless, it just shows no sign of the harm that broke the bone. Those who fall before these phantasmal injuries still die, but their bodies are left untouched by any sign of injury. The dead look as if they have simply fallen asleep.

The Corsairs fight off the attackers, but are left bewildered and unsure what has happened. With the morning sun the only sign that these assailants were ever there are the small number of fallen Freeborn, and mud trashed up by the boots of the Corsairs themselves. Nothing else remains.

Over the next week, as the Solstice gets closer, there are more reports of similar incidents. Phantom soldiers who seem to come from nowhere, and go to nowhere when defeated. Horrible beasts that are as unreal as they are terrifying. Even reports of nightmare shapes drawn from the worst dreams of the soldiers they fight. At first there is concern they may be ghosts, but this is quickly dispelled. These don't seem to be the spirits of fallen warriors, but rather phantasms. Things of raw Night magic, created in the image of memories roused up from the marshes. Phantoms of the orcs the Freeborn drove out, and of the first Freeborn themselves before they were truly born free. Phantoms of Grendel, and the armies that have fought the Brass Coast for centuries. Phantoms of people nobody recognises, either because they fought here so long ago they have been utterly forgotten, or because they are taken from some childish reverie or daydream since discarded. Given a simulacrum of existence by the marshes themselves, and sent to protect its secrets from the invaders.

It's not clear if this is a result of the burst of Spring magic released when the Maw of Siakha was shut, or some magical chaos spun by the stars, or a "natural" quality of the deep Bayou, or some enigmatic combination of all three. But as the season ends, the advance of the Red Wind Corsairs has slowed to a crawl.

Stand Tall at the High Tide

As the solstice approaches, the weather has cleared. From sour and violent, the sky has become a beaming blue expanse with nary a cloud in sight, and only the gentlest of breezes to break the heat of summer. Oh, there has been flooding, and the high winds and higher waves have left their mark, but in all honesty, though, the Freeborn of Quzar and Calvos have begun to become used to having sea invade their homes. They have built defences and learned how to drive unwelcome saltwater back out before it becomes too comfortable.

The Red Wind Corsairs remain in the marshes, battling with strange geography and stranger phantasms. Yet they have made progress, and another push next season will surely bring the bayou under the notional control of the Empire - assuming the situation remains the same and these figments of the past and out of dreams do not escalate to some more significant threat.

There are, of course, reports of fleeing pirates and privateers along the eastern coast of Madruga, but any that dare to make landfall here are dealt with by the Fire of the South. A few make it further afield, and there are three crews to be dealt with during the summit, but the others receive a similarly fatal welcome from the garrison of Mora's Rock, or from the guardians of Sarvos. The only Children of Wrecks to truly escape the utter disaster in Free Landing are those who fled out into the Bay of Catazar, and there is no respite for them there. Imperial, Grendel, and Sarcophan vessels alike will hunt them wherever they try to run, wherever they try to hide.

The tale of the Children of Wrecks has been one of needless suffering and thoughtless destruction wherever they went, but now their short story is over, and there is nobody in all the world who will weep to see them gone.

Game Information

Madruga

• The Red Wind Corsairs have made some headway in conquering the Siroc Bayou
• Suranni forces have conquered Free Landing with Freeborn assistance
• While some of their leaders are unaccounted for the Children of Wrecks are no more
• A powerful enchantment of Night magic lies over the territory

The Red Wind Corsairs are about three-fifths of the way towards claiming the Siroc Bayou for the Empire. The main obstacle slowing their advance is the wild quality possessed by the Bayou and the neighbouring Crucible. This means that it takes fifteen victory points to completely claim the region rather than the usual ten.

The Iron Confederacy has conquered Free Landing, and broken the Children of Wrecks. The Maw of Siakha has closed, and the Suranni are now in control of the entire region. In the process Freeborn corsairs have helped to liberate the remaining historical relics of the Founding, and ferried them to safety in Quzar. Likewise, the Suranni have been true to their word and allowed any Imperial citizens imprisoned by the Children of Wrecks to be escorted to safety on the Brass Coast.

The Children of Wrecks as a whole no longer threaten the Bay of Catazar. With their navy sunk by the Red Wind Corsairs, and the Iron Confederacy having crushed them on the islands of Madruga and Feroz the few survivors have scattered.

Participation : Red Wind Corsairs

• The Red Wind Corsairs engaged in a Daring Raid in Siroc Bayou and have recovered some treasures
• Military units that supported the Red Wind Corsairs this season will receive a small bounty of marsh flowers

The Red Wind Corsairs undertook a daring raid in Siroc Bayou. While they have not captured any enemy captains, they have nonetheless made a good accounting of the treasures of the marshes. This will include an amount of ilium, with the remainder split between herbs and the mysterious and unpredictable marsh flowers that grow all over the marshes.

Any character whose military unit supported the Red Wind Corsairs this season will also receive a marsh flower in their pack at the event.

Players will need to provide their own phys-reps for the flowers; small paper blooms in exotic colours are ideal.

Participation : Wings of Kobol

• Freeborn characters who supported the Wings of Kobol have a more detailed understanding of what happened in Free Landing
• They will receive an OOC report in their pack at the event which details the events they participated in

A number of Freeborn corsairs participated in the attack on Atalaya alongside the Iron Confederacy, and were responsible for securing the historical legacy of Atalaya. Beyond the fact that they have successfully recovered relics and documents from the historic town where the Brass Coast began, and that the Iron Confederacy has been victorious in their attack on the islands, nothing else is public knowledge. It will be up to them what they make public, although following the Summer Solstice information about the campaign here will surely spread (OOC Note: We will add the report to the main wiki after the Summer event).

Further Reading

• Madruga
• Deep blue sea - 388YE Spring wind of war covering events on the Bay of Catazar
• Red skies - 387YE Winter wind of war covering events on the Bay of Catazar
• Made anew - 386YE Winter wind of fortune concerning the changes to Madruga in the wake of the river rising
• Where the river rises - 386YE Autumn wind of fortune detailing the rising of the Scorrero