Rose grow the rushes o'
Loyal to the People
The Strong Reeds were raised from the Bregas. To this day the bulk of their soldiers come from the Dour Fens, and they know the wetlands better than anyone else. Since the Jotun returned to steal their homeland, they have been amid the reeds, resisting the invaders. This despite the unhappiness some of their countryfolk still feel towards the Empire - and we must not forget that many Bregas are marshfolk first, Marchers second, and Imperial citizens a distant third. Yet the 'Reeds have remained true to the oath of their General, fighting from the rushes and the deep fens to bamboozle the barbarian invaders wherever they can.
They are in a perilous situation, for all their skill at laying low. The Queen of Kalsea herself, Yrsa Jansdóttir, set the Lion of the North to root out the 'Reeds and their sympathisers. The Bregas army has been left exposed, and those who offer them succour left in mortal danger. The Jotun are closing in on their hidden encampments, deep in the fens. It has become more and more difficult for them to move or take action without the barbarians descending on them in force.
During the Autumn Equinox, Imperial heroes used the Sentinel Gate to come to their aid. In Grey Fens they intercepted the Jotun champions ordered to hunt out the havens of the Strong Reeds. Both Ghodi Melker and the yegarra champion Eisa Winterborn were brought low - the latter success in particular being cause for muted celebration. A thorn in the Empire's side for years, Imperial heroes brought Eisa to ground at Leakey Moss, and her warband has withdrawn back to their stronghold in Skallahn. They will not return to fight in the Empire again until some new hero raises the walrus banner and walks the path of the rare yegarra champions.
This game of fox and hound is at an end. No quarter shall be given. Not any more. Rise up! Rise from the reeds and be a tidal wave of fury to wash the scum from our fields. I march with you as a soldier, as a marcher, as your friend. I march with my husband by my side for us, for land, for the Marches. And when we are done, will bring in the harvest and toast to the turning of the seasons.
Amberlain P. Black, General of the Strong ReedsUnfortunately, their success was not unqualified. They were unable to prevent one of the champions from rallying her warband. Barely has the equinox ended before Seeker Alma - a skilled tracker from the hills of Reinos - leads a contingent of Lasambrian Jotun into the sleepy village of Catchment, deep in the fens. Some two hundred Marcher soldiers, taken by surprise, are slain or captured before they can flee. A grievous loss - but one that could have been significantly worse had the Empire's heroes been less thorough. Alma continues to harry the Bregas across the marshes, striking without warning against sanctuaries that have been secret for generations.
Yet despite this, the 'Reeds remain in Bregasland. They endure, and when the order comes, they will rise.
Rise
Granite-faced Derun Stonetower and the Tower of the North continues to work alongside Gjeirfund Haggarsdóttir, standing in for King Gudmundr Arasonn as general of the Fist of Ulven, ruling Bregasland with a mailed fist. Yet many of the barbarian "heroes" are champing at the bit, eager for honourable battle against the Marcher-folk and their allies. As a people, the Jotun tend to have little time for stealth and the subtle manoeuvring of spies and scouts; let others seek the Strong Reeds, the champions of Kalsea and Narkyst will build their bridge across the Howling Abyss in glorious battle! Throughout the long Summer into Autumn, barbarian raiders came reaving across the border into prosperous Mitwold.
Bounders, show me your strength and your loyalty. We bring the knights of Eleonaris with us to fight alongside our friends and siblings in Gravenmarch. We will support the strong reeds to rise up and show the Jotun what we stand for. This is marcher land and we take pride in that. We will overwhelming assault into Graven March, Bregasland. A Marcher! A Marcher!
Mary Birchsmith, General of the BoundersMake of them a scarecrow. Make our enemy a living effigy of your will - Shrive yourselves, pour your anger and sorrow into your greatswords and poleaxes… First army be shriven of sin and malignancy drive it into the invaders. It is not Sin however to hate the Jotun. To repel the invaders virtue demands it. So Shrive yourselves in battle my Drakes. Liberate the fens and furrows of Bregasland and be born anew. Do this for me now. For fellow, our commander, our stoats and all who have suffered this evil. Should you find the fire of the Marches - send me to her, so I may love my wife amidst the chaos of the land. Our Overwhelming Assault will be the battle song of my love for this and all of you.
William Guildenstern, General of the DrakesCloaks, we march to free the reeds, we march to recover the lost and aid the Marchers, we march with the Champions of Eleonaris. A good friend has just become one of their champions and I hope she can march to battle with the Winterfolk once more. Blaze Dunn! A Hero has a name!
Tager Defender of the Fallen Tyrshalt, General of the BloodcloaksThe Ice Fishers of Ldansk have been in Bregasland for a year or more, growing more restless with each season that passes. Helma Skutasdóttir plants her raven-banner in Ottery, splitting her attention between rooting out the Strong Reeds and testing the borders to the east. The Howling Bears under the standard of Yanya Uranduln have had their eyes on the wealth of Mitwold since they arrived. With the death of Eisa Winterborn it is as if grief has unhinged their champion who drives their warband to fight the Marchers wherever possible even when it is perhaps not wise to do so.
Their desire for bloodshed is nothing, however, beside that of the traitor-yegarra who gather around the banners of Stephen of Sarcombe. While the other champion-warbands seek wealth and challenge, the yegarra of the Mourn look to sate their bloodlust on the yeofolk of Mitwold and Bregasland alike. Rumours that other Jotun warbands will not fight alongside Stephen's yegarra for fear of dishonouring themselves and their ancestors have solidified. In desperation Gjeirfund Haggarsdóttir has loosed the choke-chain King Gudmundr used to control the furious human champion, letting him lead his troops into Mitwold in the hope, perhaps, that the Marchers will end the problem he represents before the King returns.
And so the raids continue after the Autumn Equinox. The Imperial defenders of Mitwold are able to ensure they do reach much further east than Oddmire and occasionally Meade March, but their focus is elsewhere. The task of dealing with the raiders falls to the beaters who patrol the borders, and to the garrison of Forte Fidelis. The Valiant Pegasus and the Autumn Hammers have quit Mitwold leaving only the Drakes and the Bloodcloaks in Mitwold - and they are busy preparing for what is to come.
Fortunately the absence left by the armies marching north is quickly filled for by the arrival of the Bounders from neighbouring Upwold. A fortnight after the Equinox, a grand cohort of elfin knights and goblin-kind infantryfolk emerge from an old battlefield in Meade March, drawn from the demesne of Eleonaris. Without delay they march west to join the Imperial armies, splitting into three distinct groups and setting their brightly-coloured pavilions and fluttering banners alongside the tents of the Imperial soldiers.
To aid the Drakes comes Kore the lion-maned warlord, glorious in their scarlet armour. They command only half the number of warriors brought by the others, but each of their knights is twice the size of their comrades. While their torso, head, and arms are humanlike their lower bodies are those of deadly predatory cats. These crimson knights use their lances to great effect, devastating their enemies with a thundering charge. Ser Helvennan, resplendent in gold and red chain, quietly joins the Bloodcloaks. The Stag-knight leads a mixed band of elfin spearmasters and grizzled goblin-kin with shield and javelin. Ollavan the Reeve, the sharp-eared bowmaster, comes at the head of a band of wily archers and rust-red hunting hounds. They are eager not only to face their foes, but to test their skill against the marksmen of the Bounders. The knights attract comment wherever they go, their richly coloured garb and merry voices something of a contrast with the fields of Meade March.
The Drakes are further reinforced by nearly five thousand troops lead by Imperial captains from every Imperial nation save the Unshackled. They have come to fight the Jotun; some offer their aid to the beaters while they wait but few can keep up with the fast-moving Marchers. Others seek the beaters for different reasons however. Perhaps as many as nine thousand more soldiers wish to sneak across the border into Bregasland to join the Strong Reeds. The expertise of the beaters is tested, but they are found equal to the challenge. Others take the riskier route along the southern shores of the Westmere with the aid of sailors from Steward's Landing, slipping into the conquered territories through Eel's Landing or isolated fishing villages along the coastline.
Fist, Lion, Tower
Once everyone is in place, on a certain day, at an appointed hour, the camps are struck. The Drakes, Bounders, and Bloodcloaks begin to move south through Meade March toward Gravenmarch, toward battle. At the same time, the Strong Reeds rise, launching a surprise attack against the Jotun garrison at Graven. With them are two thousand delicately deadly warriors of the Summer realm attired in breathtaking splendour of sky blue and sun gold; the household of Ser Alcedini, the brightly feathered Kingfisher Castellan, who leads them into battle alongside the Bregas forces. The 'Reeds can't know for sure that help is coming, cut off from the rest of the Marches as they are. They can only trust that if they act, their allies will be there to support them. More than a few Bregas soldiers breathe a sigh of relief when the news that a major Imperial force has crossed the border into the 'March reaches them.
Battle is joined. The Tower of the North, the Fist of Ulven, and the Lion of the North respond quickly, Jotun warriors surging south to intercept the Imperial forces. The rising of the Strong Reeds, however, provides a powerful element of surprise. The eyes of the barbarians were to the north, toward Ottery and Fisher's Rock rather than towards Graven. By the time they realise the attack is underway, the town has been freed from the Jotun.
At first it seems as if the whole of Graven March will follow suit, but as the days unfold that hope begins to fade somewhat. While the initial fighting mostly involves the Tower, the Fist, and the Lion, reinforcements quickly arrive. Some six thousand Summer heralds - orc-like warriors with a distinct leonine cast to their features in crimson steel chain - join the battle. Knights of the Lady of Summer, they are equally enthusiastic about fighting Imperial troops as they are clashing with their kin from the Summer Realm. In particular the axe-wielding warriors lead by Ser Grumbar the Hound-knight seek out every opportunity to contend with the knights of Ser Helvennan who side with the Bloodcloaks.
Only a few days after the fighting begins, the Jotun are further bolstered by some fifteen thousand Lasambrian orcs - the entire Lasambrian Jotun force of the Hierro, the Corazón, and the Escuta. Yet even these allies are only sufficient to slow the Imperial advance, not to halt it entirely. The Drakes and the Bounders plough straight through the Jotun defenders to meet up with the Strong Reeds at Graven; three armies of Marcher soldiers fight shoulder to shoulder against the barbarians. The liveries of dozens of Marcher households flutter and dance in the wind from the west as stubborn yeofolk face the orcs who bedevil their homelands.
The Bloodcloaks swiftly establish a presence at the town that once served as a place for the Navarr to meet with the people of the Marches to trade stories of the wider world. And to trade herbs, especially valuable cerulean mazzarine from the Brass Coast in return for the unique plants gathered in the deep fens. Indeed, while the Bloodcloaks are establishing a field hospital in the little town they come across a hidden stash of healing herbs concealed beneath the floorboards - dozens of carefully wrapped packages of true vervain and Imperial roseweald and marrowort. There is a note, hastily written, wishing whoever finds the herbs well and expressing the hope that those who use them might remember the striding of Liath's Path. It's clear to the Winterfolk that this cache was left by the Navarr trapped in Graven when the Jotun came, in the hope that it would find its way into Imperial hands. Of the Navarr themselves, there is no sign. Doubtless they were among those executed by the barbarians when Graven fell.
It proves to be a valuable find; the Winterfolk healers have their work cut out for them as they tend the wounds of their allies. The Jotun may have been put on the back foot by the attack into Gravenmarch, but they have rallied quickly, mounting a solid defence in the face of the Empire's furious assault.
Tough as the going is, the Marchers and their allies from the north are equal to the challenge. They liberate several of the smaller households and villages as they expand their control of the 'March outward from Graven. The arrival of the Lasambrians has nudged the butter churn a little, but Imperials rally quickly to the new situation and as slow as the going is it looks as if they will ultimately win the battle, if not the war.
Then, of course, the other shoe drops and the bad news arrives in the form of an exhausted Greywater messenger from Ottery.
Pride of the Marches
The Greywater is injured, on the verge of collapse when they reach Graven and demand to speak to the Strong Reeds. Refusing to rest until they have discharged their duty - there were four of them when they set out from Ottery and only one survived the passage through the Jotun lines - they bring a dire message. The Lasambrians are not the only force of Jotun that has come into Bregasland since the Autumn equinox.
While the Tower, and the Fist, and the Lion, and their Lasambrian allies, have been fighting the Empire in Gravenmarch, a massive force of Jotun has gathered in Ottermire... and is sweeping east across the Otterway into Mitwold. Perhaps forty five thousand Jotun have joined the warbands raiding Oddmire, alongside several thousand crimson-and-gold clad knights of the Summer realm. Eight armies, marching up out of Liathaven and Hordalant through the western fens to Ottery. Rather than join the defence, they barely broke their march before crossing the walkway into Oddmire.
For the first time in a century or more, there are Jotun armies in Mitwold. The news spreads through the Imperial forces like wildfire. Soldiers of the Drakes demand to be allowed to return home to protect their farms, their families, their friends. Fear that the army might make it as far as Upwold grips the Bounders. Yet in the end, there are bonds of duty and loyalty that are stronger than the fear they feel. The Empire's forces are too tightly bound up in the fight in Gravenmarch to risk trying to break free and march back north. Everything is focused here, on seizing a foothold in Bregasland. Trying to turn back now would leave the four armies between the hammer and the anvil - and risk making the situation worse. At the moment, should disaster come upon them, they can retreat into Green March. If they try to turn north, there is every chance they will end up trapped in Gravenmarch at the mercy of the Jotun.
It is a painful decision, but in the end the soldiers of the Marches and Wintermark have little choice but to trust the orders of their generals, to trust that the defenders of Mitwold will be equal to the challenge that faces them.
Odd's Way
Nearly fifty thousand Jotun. Two full contingents of the Knights of Glory. The Ice Fishers, and the Howling Bears, and the raven-banner of Helma Skutasdóttir. The traitors of the Mourn. They march along the Otterway into Oddmire. No simple raiding party, but a hammer blow against the Pride of the Marches.
Normally the western barbarians invade a territory with a crushing assault, seeking to overwhelm defenders with furious might and force of numbers. Uncharacteristically though, the Jotun attacking Mitwold seem to be favouring a more cautious strategy. Most likely last season's raids established the presence of defending armies dug-in in Oddmire. Perhaps the Jotun commanders are simply being cautious of a trap, or careful about overextending their forces. Either way, they focus more on preserving their strength than smashing the Imperial armies... which are not there. The relative slowness of the Jotun response in Bregasland makes more sense if one assumed the barbarians were expecting the Imperial armies to still be in Mitwold rather than launching an attack of their own.
Eight armies, well-rested and well-provisioned from their stay in Liathaven and Hordalant. The Fell Hammers and the Iron Host are in the van, with the glory-hungry warriors of the Mandowla's Roar and Raging Thunder straining against the unfamiliar orders to advance cautiously rather than slam full-strength into whatever Mitwold has to offer. The knights that accompany those two armies are clearly no happier about this strategy than their orc friends, but they follow their orders. The Howling Night, the Skjaldirborn, and the Shield of the Mountain form the solid core at the heart of the Jotun expeditionary force, with the Southern Bear in the rearward position, grinding relentlessly forward even as they seek to lock down the land the advance guard claims. The army of Bjorgthorn Hammerhand prides itself on only moving forward, and even though the Jotun come with caution, move forward they do.
The defenders of Mitwold know about the Jotun invasion before the forces in Gravenmarch; the beaters who watch the borders immediately realise what is happening and raise the alarm. The news speeds eastward, galvanising the garrison of Forte Fidelis and sending the yeofolk and stewards to their armouries. Weapons and armour are passed out, as the folk of the Marches brace themselves for the Jotun advance. Just as with their neighbours to the east and the south, they will not cede one inch of ground save that the barbarians pry it from their clenched fists. Messengers are sent to Mournwold and Upwold, telling them of the invasion and while they do not directly ask for aid - Marchers are proud people - the implication is there. They may be rivals in peacetime, but as both Bregasland and Mournwold have shown, when war comes to the Marches, folk unite against the interloper.
This grim pride, the courage of the yeofolk, is not in vain but it cannot hope to hold back the Jotun for long. At best, the garrison and the beaters, the households, and the walls of Oddmire can only delay what seems inevitable. Western Oddmire falls, and within a week the rest of the region follows suit. Odd's End is overwhelmed by the barbarians, forced to open its gates rather than see the entire town flattened by Jotun siege engines. Steward's Landing falls shortly afterward without any fighting at all - because Jarvey "Strongoar" Oddsboy and his entire household have loaded everyone they can onto their boats and slipped across the Gullet to Fisk. The Winterfolk who once kept a careful eye on the Marchers to the south welcome them, working with the steward and his levies to ensure that the northern shores of Mitwold can be kept supplied, should the worst come to the worst.
Despite the relatively cautious strategy the invasion of Mitwold follows a familiar pattern. Wherever they go, the Jotun offer Imperial citizens the Choice. Take up arms alongside the Jotun; lay aside the accoutrements of war and become thralls; or be given a swift and honourable death. Nobody takes the first choice. Most take the second. Few are stubborn enough to face the third. Many families make the decision to retreat before the Jotun, staunchly certain that they will reclaim their land soon enough when the Drakes return and drive the Jotun back into the western fens. The refugees are welcomed by their neighbours to the east with open grumbling about the inconvenience - but they are welcomed and found places to stay.
The Walls of Meade
Oddmire is quickly taken, and then the Jotun march on Meade. The first market town and the oldest. The largest settlement south of Kalpaheim, the city-port of the Marches. Revitalised by the dredging of the Westmere, by trade with the Faraden, and by decades of prosperity and security, Meade stands ready to repel the Jotun just as they did the Asavean raiders last Autumn.
Of course, last Autumn the Marchers had ample warning that the attack was coming, and the garrison of Forte Fidelis was bolstered by the Drakes. This year, the defenders of Meade are on their own. The city has walls of course, but while there has been some talk of further work it has been over a decade since the defences were reinforced by the Senate. The walls are stout, but to stand against eight armies of Jotun bent on conquest? That would be a challenge even for a true fortification - there's little doubt that if the Jotun turned south-east into the 'Downs even Forte Fidelis would be hard pressed to keep them out.
So the Jotun come up through Meade March towards the pride of the Marches. The people turned back the Asaveans, and they fight just as valiantly against the Jotun, but they are outnumbered and ultimately outmatched. A Jotun messenger offers the people of Meade one chance to surrender, but if anything the proud refusal of the defenders both impresses and pleases the herald sent to deliver the offer. She returns to the armies, and they waste no time besieging the city. Not that it is a siege in any literal sense. The soldiers of Forte Fidelis garrison the walls as best they can, but the gates are riven to splinters by Jotun battering rams almost immediately. The warriors of the west pour into Meade, and those who fight back are swiftly overwhelmed. This is a city of prosperity, of clever merchants and wise scholars, not a city of warriors, after all.
The remaining garrison retreats east. A great many Marchers stay behind, refusing to give up their homes. They watch sullenly as the Jotun establish a command post in Meade, from which to direct the rest of their forces. With the city fallen, there is little chance for the households of Meade March to mount more than a token defence. Yet with the aid of the beaters and the Forte Fidelis soldiers, they do their best, and their courage at least helps to slow the Jotun invasion and give time for the rest of Mitwold to prepare for what is to come. As it is, the 'March is conquered and the Jotun continue to press forward into the heart of the Marches.
As the bulk of the Jotun move to back up the raiders attacking the Meadows, however, Stephen of Sarcombe moves to have the remaining alders of Meade and their families hanged, sending his yegarra also to try and capture the bailiffs of Meade and the Grand Market, the Alder of Meade, and even the Master of the Root and Stem so they can face similar treatment. Before he can do much more than mobilise his people, they are confronted by Helma Skutasdóttir and her warband. Denouncing him as a coward and unfit to call himself Jotun, Helma herself challenges him to defend his honour. Actual fighting between the orcs of Helma's raven-banner and Stephens yegarra breaks out in the centre of Meade. Bjorgthorn Hammerhand, general of the Southern Bear, is forced to send his own warriors to separate the two warbands - but not before several fighters on both sides are slain. He does not bother to hide his utter contempt for Stephen and his clear support for Helma in this matter. According to witnesses, it looks as if the traitor-Marchers are squaring up to actually take on the Southern Bear, but in the end they back down and retreat from Meade with their tails between their legs. It becomes common knowledge that Bjorgthorn has dispatched messengers north to the King and Queen, demanding that something be done about the "rabid dog" in the midst of the Jotun before he is forced to deal with the matter himself.
Flies like Stephen aside, though, the rest of the Jotun invasion goes off with barely a hitch. After Oddmire and Meade March, the Jotun press heavily into the Meadows. North-eastern Mitwold borders Wittal Grove, some of the only dry land in the whole of Kallavesa, and allows easy access to Stock March in Upwold. If the Jotun can secure it, and secure their lines across northern Mitwold, the threat they represent is multiplied significantly.
Yet despite their fervour, and their sheer numbers, their invasion slows and begins to falter once they hit the Meadows. As the Winter Solstice approaches, the weather worsens significantly. Torrential rains give way to heavy snowfall in the approach to midwinter, and while the Jotun are no strangers to cold and snow they are not foolhardy enough to throw themselves into the teeth of the storm while there are defenders still fighting. Across the northern Marches, camps are established as the Jotun make the preparations needed to keep what they have taken so far - and presumably to continue to conquer Mitwold until the entire Pride of the Marches is in their hands.
Between Beats
It is easy to imagine that every warrior in the Jotun lands is in the Marches; six armies in Bregasland fighting the Empire's attempt to liberate Gravenmarch. Eight armies in Mitwold. Thousands of would-be champions fighting under the banners of their warlords, even as thousands of Imperial captains fight in support of the armies of the Empire. Knights of Glory on both sides, urging their compatriots to fight boldly, to neither give nor ask for quarter, to seek to build enduring legends that will live on in the songs of the bards long after their bodies are gone to rot and treeroots.
The fighting in Bregasland has been bloody - three thousand Imperial heroes dead or broken. The number would have been higher without the Bloodcloaks; the Jotun have suffered more grievous losses simply because they lack the medical expertise of the Winterfolk, their losses closer to four thousand. The Empire is four-fifths of the way toward taking Gravenmarch from the barbarians, but the fighting continues. Behind them, the armies of the west rampage across Mitwold, slowed by the stubborn defenders, but only a little. Oddmire and Meade March - and the city of Meade - are in their hands. They are halfway toward claiming the whole of the Meadows, and who knows where their ambition will take them after that?
The ultimate goal of the Jotun may be unclear, but one thing is clear. The Marchers will not give up without a fight, not in Mitwold, and not anywhere else. The Jotun have been beaten before, time and again, and this time will be no different. Just as the Strong Reeds fight for the people of Bregasland, just as the Tusks battled the odds and risked everything to free their folk in Mournwold, the people of Mitwold trust that the Drakes will be back and make the Jotun pay a high price for their trespass.
Game Information
- The Empire is four-fifths of the way toward claiming Gravenmarch
- The Jotun have conquered Oddmire and Meade March, and are halfway towards claiming the Meadows
- All titles connected to the city of Meade have lost access to their resources
Following the battle opportunity in Autumn, the Jotun have struck back against the Strong Reeds, causing them to take 200 casualties. They have now risen up, however, openly fighting the barbarians. As such, the information the Jotun scouts gathered about their movements and dispositions is no longer useful. If the Strong Reeds choose to start lying low again, they will not face any ongoing losses unless and until the Jotun are able to scour the territory for them once again. The "counter" on their ability to rise up would be reset at this point given they still maintain the absolute support of the Bregas people. Alternatively, they could leave the territory without difficulty either alone or with other Imperial armies.
The Imperial forces have not taken Gravenmarch but they are four-fifths of the way there. While the route they entered Bregasland by, has been cut off - Oddmire and Meade March being in Jotun hands - there is nothing to stop them retreating into the Mournwold, or even circling round through Mournwold into Golden Downs or Maiden Downs. If they wish to return to Mitwold directly - into Oddmire or Meade March - they will have to fight the Jotun to do so.
The city of Meade is in Jotun hands. While they are not going out of the way to loot the place, there is still massive disruption here. As such the Bailiff of Meade, Bailiff of the Grand Market, Master of the Root and Stem, and Alder of Meade have all lost access to their production - whether sinecure or ministry. The titles still exist, they simply can't wield their powers to secure resources. In addition, the Bounder's Hall in Meade is now in Jotun hands and unfortunately that means that it is no longer possible for beaters to beat the bounds in Mitwold. There is nothing to stop characters instead supporting Forte Fidelis but they won't receive any income for doing so unless that action is assigned Guerdon shares. Likewise, until Oddmire and Steward's Landing are once again in Marcher hands it is no longer possible for Marcher fleets to take the Raid Kalsea's Coastline voyage.
Participation : Beaters and Bloodcloaks
- Characters who took the Beating the Bounds or Raid Kalsea's Coastline actions have had a busy season
- The General of the Bloodcloaks retains some of the healing herbs recovered from the Navarr herb cache in Graven
Any character who took the beat the bounds venture in Mitwold this season, or who undertook the Raid Kalsea's Coastline voyage is encouraged to roleplay their part in the events taking place in the Marches. In particular, they may have been involved in helping military units sneak into Bregasland to join the Strong Reads, helped deliver the desperate warning of the Jotun assault to the defenders of Mitwold, or been involved in evacuating Steward's Landing. If your military unit or fleet supported one of these actions, you may have been injured engaging in risky heroism against the Jotun. Anyone who did so can email plot@profounddecisions.co.uk before the end of March and request a lingering wound sustained in the campaign. A lingering wound can help support your roleplaying on the field as one of the defenders of Mitwold. Bear in mind however that, if left untreated, lingering wounds can also be fatal.
The Navarr herb cache uncovered by the Bloodcloaks in Graven has been distributed to the healers of the Wintermark army, but a portion has also been set aside for the general. As such, Tager Defender of the Fallen Tyrshalt will find six drams of each of the five medicinal herbs in their pack, all that remains of this bounty.
Participation : Knights of Glory
- Characters whose military unit fought with the Drakes, the Bounders, or the Strong Reeds receive a special benefit
The Knights of Glory who fought alongside the Drakes, Bounders, and Strong Reeds revel in the uncompromising tactics the three armies employed. As is their wont they communicate some of their enthusiasm to the soldiers who fight alongside them. A character whose military unit supported one of these three armies may choose to have been impacted by the experience of battling in close proximity to heralds of Eleonaris.
- If you possess the hero skill, you may choose to increase your number of hero points by one until the end of the Winter Solstice.
- If you do not have the hero skill, you gain an additional temporary hero point which, once spent, is permanently gone. It will have faded entirely by the end of the Winter Solstice regardless.
Anyone who chooses to gain this benefit also experiences a roleplaying effect that lasts until the end of the Winter Solstice: You feel the urge to do great deeds that will make you the centre of attention, and take particular pleasure from approval and adulation. You feel the urge to do things that demonstrate your prowess as a powerful warrior. Being overlooked or dismissed may cause you to lose your temper.