Mud, blood, and manacles
What Has Gone Before
From the Rushes we rise from the reeds. Heed not the gnashing jaws and grasping hands of the unquiet Grey walkers, we are of the fens and reeds and are as much a part of the land as they are, our risen neighbours. Seek out the Jotun, strike at them and push them back to Ottermire!
Amberlain P. Black, General of the Strong ReedsThe Drakes turn south as we turn west. The bonds of Loyalty turn over from nation to nation and through General to General freely given in our actions to another. As an Empire we fight to show the Jotun they cannot take with Impunity and that we answer their threat with standing together whether in Mitwod reclaiming as they quit our lands, or Bregasland where we will face their armies and their Fjorknaw. We are the Burning Falcon, empowered by the might of Summer. Where we tread, Triumph blazes
Aracelis I Erigo, General of the Burning FalconThe Golden Sun stands where the Empire needs it most. Every oath deserves its shield. We will grinding advance into Bregasland. Out of fields of gold, through the Rushes and Ottermire. No enemy can sever what Loyalty has forged. For family, for the Marchers. We stand for the lore of their land. For the Empire. The Golden Sun will be a glorious arrow into the heart of our enemies. Secure the objective sun. For Gui.
Lord Daemon Mortére, General of the Golden SunTwo Years ago I ordered you to begin a crusade of liberation against the Jotun to free those labouring under barbarian yoke, starting in the Mourn. We inspired and aided the Oakleaf rebellion to free themselves. Then Bregasland fell, and our commitment to our crusade was renewed. Diversionary attacks North and South, the Reeds patience tested, a strike to one of the two hearts of their power, Keirheim, just barely thwarted. All this to make possible the conditions of this season, our return to Bregasland. We are fighting for Dominion, for the Liberty of the people of Bregasland; Accept no less than total victory. One day the Tyranny of Queens and Kings shall end and all people will be free to pursue virtue. We fell their rotten oaks one strike at a time.
Zadok, General of the Valiant PegasusCorsairs we trade a swamp for a marsh in helping our Marcher Cousins reclaim Bregasland. The Lasambrians have stolen from our cousins so we commit to a Daring Riad to reclaim their wealth from the Jotun by Proxy. We must be especially vigilant for the stolen dolmen of Drayham Mere. For the Empire! For the Marches!
Joaquim i Erigo, General of the Red Wind CorsairsBravos of Tassato, soldiers of the League, heroes of the Empire we stand ready all swords sharpened, armour new and unblemished. Now we test them and ourselves against Jotun steel. We march to Bregasland at steady conquest to retake the homes of our Marcher siblings. We are named for our Empress, let your Pride in that legacy give you the strength to show the world that when the twin cities march to war no one can stand against us.
Albrecht Sanguineo, General of the Sparrow's ReckoningJacks of the Bounders. Look into yourself and find your ambition, for there is work to be done. We go back to Bregasland with our Imperial cousins with us. Even the most impenetrable forest may fall one Jotun at a time.
Fitzwilliam Thorn, General of the BoundersWar is a vicious dog on a long chain. Too fucking long has it been let loose in our lands. Our homes. The time has come to chase the beast from our bounds. I say to you what I did before. Kill the invaders. Leave no Jotun Warrior alive to contest the claim. Make Balanced attack and liberate our home. P.S. if you see Stephen he's mine!!!
Jack Ashton, General of the TusksBloodcloaks, we go to Bregasland to recover those we have lost and will lose reclaiming the homes of the Marchers. Find the trinkets on the limbs of the trees that sprung up on this blood-soaked beachhead. We collect them to return them to the families of these heroes so their stories can be told and their memories shall survive the cold of night. We are Winterborn and the cold doesn't compromise. All heroes have a name, no matter which nation.
Tager Defender of the Fallen Tyrshalt, General of the BloodcloaksA red sky after battle day, Bleeds broad beyond the brae; What fields, what fallen friends are they, What fires fade o'er far away? What spears stood stout in storm and shout, What banners broke and burned? What voices, valiant, call me out, To rounds from which we turned? That was the ground of gathered might, Of kin in clash and cry, The steadfast shields, a woman bright, Whose blade sang swift and high. O iron hours and embered eve, O dust and drum and flame, The hands I held, that I've had to leave, Yet thrill to speak their name. Good battle days 'neath shining star, Are loath to lose their lustre, Naught after else their joy can mar, Nor break the band we muster.
Iron Osric, General of the Green ShieldWe are to be a dance of cunning to claim what is before us. Let us weave our way through the lines carrying messages between our many allies. Be the Vigilant eyes and ears that inform every step forward. Seek the flanks and guide the Jotun's path into our Imperial victory.
Determination of Ice Kaisa, General of the Narwhal's SpearHammers, this is the season we strike the Jotun and bind them. This is the season we invoke the contracts with the City of Lock and Bond. We have seen the Hunters walk among us and now we fight with them. Show the Jotun why the Lictors are known as the Punishers, more than that, show them why WE are The Hammers! Strike the blow, cripple them so they cannot flee from us. Have Pride in your strength.
Ashborn Vana, General of the Autumn HammersHere are the Grey Fens of Bregasland. The Jotun rule here, at least in theory. Yet what is this emerging from the marshes, from the dead pools? The shades of Marchers past walk the Grey Fens, now that Ullsmere Rock is gone. They do not tolerate trespassers, and unlike many ghosts they are capable of enforcing their will at least to a degree. They have no time for the self-styled Jarls of Bregasland, but they also care not for the folk of the Marches it seems. The Jotun defend their thralls, which includes those Bregas folk who have taken the Choice, but their efforts go only so far. Slowly, methodically, the Grey Walkers drive our everyone living in "their" fens, human and orc alike.
Here are the North Fens, where stands Fisher's Rock. The interloper queen of the Fishers is dead now, interred far to the north by her erstwhile Jotun allies. She is gone but the shadow of her touch remains; the bitter anger of House Brawness festers here, steeped in daydreams of rebellion. Yet it is not House Brawness that the people of North Fens fear at night. It is not rebels who come creeping out of the Gullet to steal away the unwary. It is not the bitter anger of Matilda Fisher's former friends that has seen villages and farms deserted. The Jotun try to defend their thralls here, too, but the monsters that come out of the sea strike without warning and often as not the yeofolk are dragged kicking into the sea, shouting for aid that arrives too late.
Here then is Ottermire, and the town of Ottermire where the Jotun have planted their standards, from where they rule over Bregasland. They control the hub from which roads run like spokes - the Odd's Way east into Mitwold, and Sallow's Walk south toward the Mournwold, and innumerable paths and byways stretching out across the fens. These lesser roads quickly give way to streams and lakes and rivers, and the flat-bottomed boats of the Bregasfolk. Especially since that season of rains which left all the Empire's marshes deeper, and stranger. And the fens of Bregasland were strange enough to begin with...
And here are the Rushes, and the town of the Sallowfolk, which rises in time toward the dry land of Graven Rock and its march. There is a new woodland here, where the marshwaters give way to the stone, where Jotun and Imperial once fought in the shadow of that great, flat rock (that rock that echoes still with the fading notes of that eerie song that once rang out across the battlefield). This is the border that the barbarians watch, between their lands and that fraction of Bregasland wrested free from their grasp.
It is from that rock, right down there in the south of Bregasland, that the ripples of Spring magic still spread across Bregasland bringing with them unnatural life, and the chaotic touch of the Primal Forest. It runs through the waters of the marshes and the swamps, bringing indiscriminate healing to all who need it, whether they want it or not. Since the flat-topped mountain sang, all save the most mortal of injuries heals in a matter of hours, provided one bathes in or drinks from the waters of Bregasland.
Spring rarely, if ever, brings unalloyed benefit to those it touches, and as Summer fades it is clear that Bregasland is no different. The vitality that infuses the humans, and the orcs, and their beasts, infuses also the vermin of the marsh. Great clouds of mosquitos and biting flies rise from the waters of the fens, spreading fear, and painful bites, and the threat of pestilence. The Jotun fight to defend their thralls, but against clouds of insects, what use can axes be?
The Jotun also cannot forget that out there, hidden in the fens and the marshes, are the Strong Reeds. They have not forsaken their oath to the Bregas, not for one day. They fought to take back Gravenmarch, and then they slipped back into the rushes and the water without a trace, and every day the Jotun jarls must remember that they are still here, and oh how that must rankle, how that must tug at their pride. They cannot root out the Strong Reeds, and every raid, every battered baggage train, every prisoner spirited away from beneath their noses, is a reminder that the spirit of Bregasland will never submit to them.
This is Bregasland, then, in the heartbeats between the height of Summer and the slow descent toward Winter. And none of these problems besetting the Jotun - not Grey Walkers, not coral-tainted husks, not bitter rebels, not bloodthirsty mosquitos, not even the lurking threat of the Strong Reeds - is anything compared to the storm of war that breaks over Bregasland as the sun rides high in the sky and the grain darkens toward gold in the fields.
A Storm of Summer's Passing
Eleven Imperial armies explode into Bregasland with hurricane force, while the Strong Reeds rise from the rushes to meet them, to lead their assault against the Jotun conquerors. Across the territory, those the Reeds have inspired throw their strength behind the Empire, launching long-rehearsed strikes against barbarian strongholds across the fens. They strike supply caches in Ottery, fire the pallisade at Sallow, and wreck bridges across the North Fens. Then, with the skill of the Bregas, they melt back into the marshes before the Jotun can retaliate.
Into the Rushes, the Empire comes in force. A dozen armies, half of them marked with the power of Imperial enchantments. A further five thousand strength of warbands, lead by bold captains eager to see the Jotun brought down, driven out of the Marches entirely.
The Strong Reeds rise, flanked by the Tusks and the Bounders. This is a war for the Marches, but not solely by the Marches. Three Marcher armies are matched by three armies of Wintermark - by the Bloodcloaks, the Green Shield, and the Narwhal's Spear. The first guards the lives of those who fight, bringing succour to the fallen. The second fights with honour, reminding their allies that there are some tactics that will not be borne - and showing the Jotun that the heroes of Wintermark at least remember how to glory in battle without letting it taint their spirit. The hunters of the third army, quick witted and fleet footed and no stranger to fighting in marshes, test the mettle of their foes and seek that understanding which is key to any successful hunt.
Six armies, and only halfway through their accounting!
Next are two Freeborn armies, bright and burning despite the mud and the damp Summer. The Burning Falcon blaze with passionate ardour, a deadly bonfire of true conviction that will not settle for anything less than absolute victory over the foe. The Jotun cannot help but respect this incomparable enthusiasm for battle. The Red Wind Corsairs match the bold courage of their cousins with daring and audacity of their own, making the Jotun pay not in blood but in treasure to recover the prisoners they claim on the battlefield. The war-price is a sacred tradition, after all, and the orcs can hardly complain when the Freeborn take advantage of it.
Then the virtuous Valiant Pegasus and the untested soldiers of the League fresh mustered to the Sparrows Reckoning. They eschew glory and heroism in the pursuit of preserving lives, a steady conquest that sees them ensure their soldiers are never far from the healing touch of the physick or the healer. The soldiers of one of the oldest nations of the Empire fight beside those belonging to one of the youngest. The one shares their experience with the other, who in turn share their pride at their chance to serve their nation, their Empire, and their Throne.
Last, then, but by no means least, come the Autumn Hammers. The orcs of the Unshackled have the strangest of allies; with them marches a cohort of figures, features concealed in cowled hoods and metal masks. They fight not with sword or spears but with chains of green iron or pale glass or stranger materials. They are hunters bound by contract with the Sovereign Lords of the City of Bar and Bond, and they bring with them the power of the Iron Labyrinth itself. Its power is subtle, but as the Empire engages the armies of the Jotun, it begins to spread wherever the orc army treads.
Twelve armies. Four - the Hammers, the Reeds, the Tusks, and the Bounders - are at the heart of the Imperial strategy. Their soldiers are granted supernatural clarity of thought by the Empire's masters of Day magic. They can see how best to wield the strength of Imperial soldiers against the defenders, the straight road from where they are to the future where Bregasland is freed.
Two are enchanted with the Knights of Glory. With the Green Shield is Ollavan the Reeve, sharp-eared archer and master of the bow. He brings his warband of hunters and rust-red hounds, and their arrows sing as they seek out the Jotun foe. When not fighting, they are eager to test their skill against that of the finest archers among the Imperial troops, congratulating winner and loser with equal enthusiasm. Their thirst for glory is contagious, spreading easily through the bold warriors of Wintermark.
The Burning Falcon are joined by Kore the Lion-maned, resplendent in crimson armour, leading their leonine lancers at the forefront of every charge. Kore's knights tower above the Freeborn beside them; while their torso, head, and arms are humanlike, their lower bodies are those of deadly predatory cats. (And if there are also rumours of laughing, dancing heralds of the Shadowed Fire with the Burning Falcon, they are surely just that - rumours. Surely such sightings are simply kohan inspired by the passion of Eleonaris' captain, and not the servants of any eternal the Conclave has placed under enmity. Surely.)
The storm of swords breaks over Bregasland, and the Jotun are in its path. But what of the Jotun?
An Answering Gale
The Jotun are on the back foot in Bregasland. The challenges to their rule, the threats to the thralls they are sworn to protect, are only the half of it. Their forces withdrew fell back from Mitwold last season, surrendering the land they had taken without a fight. The Lasambrian armies continued southward, down towards their home in Reinos, beset by the armies of the Iron Confederacy. The Imperial attack on Skallahn threatened the unity of the north and the south, and drew the attention of both the king and the queen away from Bregasland.
This season, it seems, the Jotun planned to tighten their grip on Bregasland once more. Perhaps they expected the Empire to be busy elsewhere, perhaps they simply didn't predict the sheer might that the Empire would bring to bear. Either way, when the Strong Reeds rise and the Imperial armies attack, the Jotun are in the midst of mobilizing for an attack of their own. Lead by the Skjaldirborn, the Jotun forces in Bregasland sought to make a cautious foray into Gravenmarch, to take back the only dry land in the marshes from the Empire.
Likely this was a calculated gamble - if the Empire were to wait another season before committing forces to Bregasland, they would be able to take back the March and remove the Imperial beachhead. If the Empire chose to defend, they could probe those defences without risking too many casualties. And if, as has happened, the Imperials launched an attack of their own they would at least be able to face it without wholesale bloodshed. Unfortunately for the Jotun, it is nowhere near as good as a carefully planned defence for holding in the face of the hurricane of war that has descended upon them.
There are some eight armies remaining in Bregasland, and the warbands of many of the Jotun champions. There are warriors of the Fields of Glory with them also; the warbands of the hound-knight Ser Grumbar and the stag-knight Ser Helvennan battle alongside the Jotun. The households of the rival twins glower and glare at each other, but seem united in their disappointment at how conservative the orcs' strategy is this season. It does not stop them fighting, however, and as always the court of the Lady of the Pennants seek every opportunity to test their skill against one another.
With the disruption spread by the Strong Reeds and their Bregas allies, the Jotun are barely able to respond to the awesome force of the Empire before they have already lost control of Sallow and most of the Rushes. They rally as best they can; the Roaring Thunder, the Southern Bear and the Shield of the Mountain try to hold the southern end of Sallow Walk while the skirmishers of the Howling Night and the vanguard of the Bear who Swims seek to flank the Imperial forces. Their rearguar action slows the Empire only briefly; the Jotun are forced to retreat in disarray. In their wake they leave the would-be Jarl Kiergmunt of Sallow. He and his household warriors are found floating in the eel ponds below the town he thought to make his hall, cut to pieces with the distinctive long knives favoured by the reed-cutters of the Rushes. The people here may resent the Empire, but they resent the Jotun even more; and when the Strong Reeds rise, they rise with them.
The Battle of Sallow Walk
As the Empire quells barbarian resistance in the Rushes, the Jotun regroup and prepare a counter-attack from their stronghold at Ottery. While the siege-engineers of the Tower of the North feverishly reinforce the defences along the northern part of Sallow Walk and the town at its head, the relentless Fell Hammers and the Southern Bear lead the bulk of the Jotun forces against the Empire. As they march south along Sallow Walk, they meet the Burning Falcon marching north, eagerly pulling ahead of the main Imperial line. Perhaps ten thousand Freeborn and allied captains, along with the heralds of Eleonaris, clash with maybe twelve thousand Jotun, and their own supernatural allies. Neither Imperial nor barbarian are prepared to step aside, and furious battle is joined with control of the Walk being the ultimate prize.
Battle rages on the raised road, and the sections of dry land to either side. The four Imperial armies most familiar with fighting in open marsh - the Bounders and the Drakes to the east and the Narwhal's Spear and the Green Shield to the west - sweep round to attack the Jotun from the side. Before they can strike, the rest of the Jotun forces arrive to support their vanguard. It's clear that while many of the barbarians are at a disadvantage when forced to leave the dry ground of the Walk, others have made the most of their time in Bregasland to adapt their tactics a little to the realities of shifting ground and open water.
At first it seems the furious charge of the Burning Falcon will give them the advantage, but the Fell Hammers and the Southern Bear have their own momentum. The enthusiasm of the Freeborn proves to be both an advantage and a disadvantage when tested against the more cautious strategy of the orcs. The front lines press forward too far, and while at first it seems the Jotun line is breaking, they are actually falling back and to the side to allow the Falcon to over-extend itself. The barbarians close around the vanguard of the Burning Falcon like a fist, and exact a terrible price from the bright burning warriors of the south before the tides of battle allow them to retreat to their own lines.
In the end though it is the unstoppable force of the Falcon and their allies that wins the day. The Jotun are forced to sound the retreat - great hollowed horns braying mounrful notes across the sodden battlefield. The Empire continues to press them all the way back to Ottery, with the pitched battle of Sallows Walk becoming a ragged mess of smaller fights and skirmishes. The barbarians are still more interested in the fight than they are in defending their hold of Bregasland - at least for the moment.
A butchers' trail lies along the top of Sallow Walk as the Empire presses the Jotun north. The unheard rippling song of Graven Rock still washes across Bregasland, but even Spring magic has its limits. The Jotun take their wounded with them where they can but must leave the bodies of the dead behind; at the same time they make no effort to execute the fallen Imperial soldiers who have fought valiantly against them. The Empire may be their enemies, but to slaughter the fallen would be to surrender the heart and soul of what it means to be Jotun. For their part, the Empire is also restrained in its treatment of barbarians that fall behind the retreating armies - the Green Shield in particular will not allow the mistreatment of prisoners. Some Freeborn joke that the Red Wind Corsairs are spending almost as much time negotiating the exchange of prisoners and the ransom of captured Jotun as they do fighting the barbarians!
The Battle of Ottery
The Tower of the North have been busy, wringing every ounce of opportunity from every hour of time the rest of the Jotun have bought for them. Wood is at a premium in Bregasland, but it seems the Tower has brought wagons of lumber out of Liathaven to prepare their defences. A stout wood-and-stone palisade surrounds Ottery, reinforced with archers-towers. Spiked barricades have been thrown like the toys of a frustrated giant across the road, and the marshy land surrounding the town. The Bregas themselves are trapped in their houses, a curfew imposed by savvy Jotun who will not risk Strong Reeds or their sympathisers infiltrating Ottery.
Arrayed before Ottery to meet the Empire is the full might of the Skjaldirborn, banners flapping fitfully in the sour wind blowing from the north. The mighty Jorgen Hylasson, one of the most respected of the northern Jotun warlords, stands a little ahead of the army. As the Imperial forces begin to move forward, he raises his hand in a salute to the attackers, and then sounds the massive horn he hefts easily in one hand. The Jotun are not content to cower behind makeshift walls - and it seems they are not prepared to risk harm coming to the thralls of Ottery. With the Skjaldirborn in the lead, they attack the Empire head-on.
Yet even so, they are not reckless. They make good use of the barricades the Tower of the North have erected; archers are positioned in key locations across the battlefield and in the newly constructed towers of Ottery. Rather than volleying indiscriminately, these skilled marksmen pick their targets with care. More than one Imperial battlemage is brought down without any hint of a warning by an arrow to the back of the head. These deadly warriors support the Ulfur of the Howling Night in their efforts to counter the impact of Imperial battlefield magic.
Many of the Jotun warriors here bear enchantments, or the boons of the eternals. Summerbound Skjaldir with truly supernatural levels of endurance battle relentlessly alongside Ulvenwar with the strength to rend the wargear of their enemies. These magically empowered warbands especially seek to test themselves against the knights of Dawn and the Marcher armies, and before the real threat is made clear are able to splinter many Marcher polearms and break the bright heraldry of Dawnish shields.
While the battle rages south of Ottery, the Bounders, Strong Reeds, and the Sparrows Reckoning avoid the thick of the fighting and flank round to the east. They launch a coordinated raid against the less-well defended gates of the town and quickly gain purchase within the town itself. The League army is untested, but the bravos that fight with it are well versed in fighting in the confined spaces of city streets - skills that serve them well inside Ottery. Once the folk here realise the Reeds and the Bounders are here, that the Empire is here, many of them take up weapons and join the effort to reclaim their town. The struggle within Ottery itself culminates in a trio of Marcher beaters and a League crossbow marksman capturing one of the archer towers, and firing on the Jotun from behind. When Jorgen Hylasson takes a Marcher arrow to the shoulder, piercing through his mandowla-hide cloak and finding a chink in his armour, it is the turning point of the battle.
Ottery lost, and the Empire pressing forward, the second retreat is sounded. Again the Jotun fall back toward North Fens. Not one Jotun Army tries to retreat west into Grey Fens - they would always rather fight living Imperials than dead phantoms.
The Bloodcloaks quickly take charge of Ottery, establishing field hospitals wherever they can. Public buildings are used, but there are also sickrooms set up in the homes of grateful Bregas who open their doors to the injured and to the Winterfolk healers. There is a significant Jotun supply cache here, and its not clear who gives the order to break it open, but the night after the Battle of Ottery an impromptu celebration begins in the streets of the town. At first it is muted - this liberation has been bought at a terrible cost after all - but perhaps it is that very cost, that spectre of death and war, that adds kindling to the feasting and the dancing and the singing in the streets of Ottery that night. A weight has been lifted from the Bregas - hope replacing fear and bitterness. Perhaps there are some who think the celebration premature, but over the next two weeks the Imperial forces win out against the Jotun again and again and eventually Ottermire is Imperial - and with it the territory of Bregasland as a whole.
A Long Slog Through Thick Mud
After Ottermire, the writing seems to be on the wall for the Jotun. They continue to launch attacks against the Imperial armies, but they are short-lived, probing stabs rather than committed efforts to bring the Empire to battle again. The Jotun could dig-in at Fisher's Rock, but for the most part they focus on trying to bog the Imperial forces down wherever they can. It's clear messengers have been sent west and north, to call for aid against the massive Imperial host, to warn King Gudmundr and Queen Yrsa of the situation in Bregasland.
The fighting continues as the Autumn Equinox approaches, and as it does so too the Empire's front line approach Fisher's Rock where the Jotun have their fallback position. One last push, and the Jotun will have no choice but to retreat again - either into the Grey Fens to the south and thence to Liathaven, or west into Hordalant. It seems inevitable that the Empire will win - if they keep up this relentless pressure the remaining Jotun forces will not be able to stand against it.
The cost has been high. Even with the magic of Graven Rock and the efforts of the Bloodloaks, the butchers' road northward has claimed so many lives. The dead are counted in the thousands, and the Empire's forceful strategy has seen thm pay the lions' share. Many of the fallen are recovered, but just as many are not, will likely never be found, taken by the mud and the water. The marshes give but they also take, say some of the Bregas dourly.
The Manacle Snaps Shut
Autumn is in the wind, in the water, in the sun setting behind the western peaks. But that is not the only place the Autumn lies. All through this long campaign, the Autumn Hammers have been busy. While their warriors have fought no less valiantly against the Jotun than anyone else, that is not all they have been doing. As the battle presses the Jotun north, bands of thief-takers and oathwrights have made forays into the marshes, or lead swift raids against key positions that seem to have little strategic importance. With them have gone the iron-masked chainfighters of the City of Bar and Bond.
The whole time the Jotun have been fighting over the marshes of Bregasland, the Unshackled have been fixing unseen manacles about their ankles. The lictors are the unparalleled masters of binding and this season they are contracted to the service of the Imperial Orcs. None of the Jotun armies escape their touch. While binding is often dramatic and obvious - the spells of the war magician that hold folk in place - there are also more subtle methods of holding in place, of impeding travel. As the last light of Summer drains from the sky, and Winter's herald delicately touches the leaves on the scrubby marsh trees, the jaws of the final trap snap shut.
Game Information
Bregasland
- The Empire has reclaimed the Rushes and Ottermire, and is seven tenths of the way toward claiming North Fens
- Bregasland is once again an Imperial territory and may elect a Senator
- The Grey Walkers are one-tenth of the way toward claiming Grey Fens
- Spring magic continues to ripple across Bregasland creating an effect similar to RIvers of Life
- The Jotun armies have all been cursed by the Lictors and the Imperial Orcs
This season has seen the Empire win a resounding victory over the Jotun in Bregasland. Imperial forces liberated the Rushes and Ottermire, and along with their control of Gravenmarch this means the territory is once again Imperial. As such it will be eligible to elect a Senator at the Autumn Equinox. The Empire is also seven-tenths of the way toward claiming North Fens.
The phantom Grey Walkers are slowly driving "trespassers" - human and orc alike - out of Grey Fens. They are one-tenth of the way toward claiming the region from the Jotun. The Grey Walkers will continue to try and claim the region each season.
Spring magic continues to ripple across the territory, emanating form Graven Rock. This creates an ongoing effect similar to Rivers of Life, and seems to be a consequence of the recent magical chaos linked to the astronomantic constellations.
The Autumn Hammers have used the assistance of the Lictors to curse all the Jotun armies over the course of the campaign in Bregasland. This special technique, secured by contract with the City of Bond and Bar, means that no Jotun army currently in Bregasland will be able to move more than one territory following the Autumn Equinox. If any of the armies try to leave Bregasland, they will be unable to go any further than Hordalant or Liathaven. The Jotun will be aware of this restriction.
Only military units supporting the Burning Falcon received a share of the Guerdon this season; other military units receive nothing.
Participation : Green Shield
- The Green Shield cannot take the cautious advance or give ground orders for the next year
- Any character whose military unit fought alongside the Green Shield may be inspired by the Knights of Glory
The Empire is aware that use of Knights of Glory sometimes has unexpected effects on the soldiers in the armies that use it regularly. During recent fighting in the Sarangrave, this manifested as an ethereal influence over the warriors fighting with the army. Both the Green Shield and the Burning Falcon are now experiencing this effect - their soldiers are even more enthusiastic for battle for its own sake, for tests of glory, for tents of honour and heroism, than ever before.
This means that the Green Shield cannot take the Cautious Advance or Give Ground orders until a year has passed without that enchantment being cast on them. Each time they are campaign alongside the Knights of Glory, the clock will be reset.
Participation : Burning Falcon
- The Burning Falcon has been inspired by the Knights of Glory
- The General can issue a new order as long as the army continues to be enchanted with Knights of Glory or until a year has passed
- Characters whose military unit supported the Burning Falcon may begin the Autumn Equinox with a powerful enchantment
This season the Burning Falcon have fought with the Knights of Glory, and engaged in a triumphant charge against the Jotun. The leonine commander Kore, and his warband of lion-bodied lancers, have revelled in the chance to battle the Jotun alongside the passionate warriors of the Brass Coast. For their part many of those who fought with the Falcon this season will have experienced a profoundly heightened thirst for battle and glory. This influence has spread throughout the army - and if there is any truth to the rumours that heralds of Janon were also present it is likely that they will have intensified this influence even further.
In theory, this would mean that the Burning Falcon would be unable to take more cautious orders... but their True Conviction means they can't do that anyway so this is all rather moot. Except that it has made the Freeborn soldiers even more enthused about fighting. As a consequence, following the Autumn Equinox the general of the Burning Falcon can issue an additional attacking order: Leonine Rampage. To use the order the army must be enchanted with Knights of Glory
- The army must be enchanted with Knights of Glory otherwise this defaults to Triumphant Charge
- If available, Knights of Glory used on this army will always call forth Kore and their leonine lancers
- The ability of this army to capture territory is increased by a half
- Casualties inflicted by this army are increased by one fifth
- Casualties suffered by this army are increased by three-fifth
This order will continue to be available until a season passes without Knights of Glory being cast on the army or until the end of the end of the Summer Solstice 389YE whichever comes first. Obviously, continuing to employ Knights of Glory will continue to bring to bear the influences of the Summer Realm on the soldiers of the army.
The lion-lancers have also had a powerful effect on the military units that fought with the army. The captain of any military unit that fought alongside the Burning Falcom begins the Autumn Equinox with a boon - an enchantment that gives them the ability to call cleave twice each day when wielding a one-handed weapon, one-handed spear, great weapon or polearm with which they are proficient. If anyone uses discern enchantment on you, you'll need to let the referee know that you are under the effect of a magnitude 7 Summer enchantment, and that you bear the mark of leonine glory.
As well as the game benefits, the aura creates a roleplaying effect: You feel a strong urge to confront problems head on, and to overwhelm your rivals and enemies with sheer strength of personality. If that doesn't work, smashing them into the ground will do just as well. The idea of holding back when you could be charging into a dangerous situation, or wasting too much time planning when everyone knows plans never survive contact with the enemy, seems like an utter waste of time.
The boon can be removed as normal - “overwritten” with a new enchantment - and will have faded by the start of the Winter Solstice.
Participation: Marchers
- Any Marcher character whose military unit supported the Strong Reeds or the Tusks may receive a hearth magic benefit
- Any Marcher whose personal resource is in Bregasland may also receive a hearth magic benefit
The folk of Bregasland are often viewed as oddly withdrawn, or even strange, by their fellow Marchers. Recent history has been marked with suspicion of the Empire as a whole, and local politics have boiled over several times. However, the commitment of the Strong Reeds has never been in question by people who might otherwise see the entire Empire go hang as long as they are left alone to tend their eels. This has been particularly apparent in the Bregasland campaign, with the Reeds making good on their promise to drive out the Jotun, supported by the Bounders and the Tusks.
Any Marcher character whose military unit was assigned to support the Tusks or the Strong Reeds this downtime may choose to gain a special, personal benefit. If they receive an Anointing of Loyalty, Pride, Vengeance, or Hate before time out on Friday during the Autumn Equinox, then in addition to the normal benefits they will gain one additional rank of endurance.
As well as those who fought directly, there are plenty of people in Bregasland who heard the call of the Strong Reeds and rose up to resist the Jotun. Any Marcher character whose personal resource is in Bregasland may also receive a hearth magic benefit if they receive one of these anointings before time out on Friday. Instead of receiving a point of endurance, however, their will to live is heightened and they receive a point of fortitude.
A character whose personal resource is in Bregasland and also supported one of the Marcher armies receives both benefits.
These effects are not magical - they do not register on either detect magic or insight. It is likely a result of the powerful hearth magic of the oaths sworn by the generals of the Tusks and the Strong Reeds and the clear demonstration of their commitment to the Marches and the people of Bregasland in particular.
Either benefit lasts only as long as you continue to be committed to driving the last Jotun out of Bregasland as soon as possible; if your will to do so falters then the bonus is lost and cannot be regained. It is also permanently lost if your anointing is removed or changed to one other than Pride, Loyalty, Vengeance, or Hatred.
In any event the benefit will fade along with the anointing, by the start of the Winter Solstice.