Line 47: Line 47:


==Canvas Makes a Poor Shield==
==Canvas Makes a Poor Shield==
Not all the Grendel ships storm the harbour. While the green-sailed Tempest and th blue-sailed Simoon take the forefront in the attack, the Golden Wind are busy on the coast outside the city, unloading orc soldiers, covered by the vessels of the red-sailed Shamal.  
Not all the Grendel ships storm the harbour. While the green-sailed Tempest and the blue-sailed Simoon take the forefront in the attack, the Golden Wind are busy on the coast outside the city, unloading orc soldiers, covered by the vessels of the red-sailed Shamal.  


The banners of the Iron Gulls are raised. The Empire knows the 'Gulls, veterans of dozens of engagements. They survived the [[382YE_Spring_Equinox_winds_of_war#Leviathan_Wakes_.28Spiral.29|Battle of Solen's Doubt]]. They were at the forefront of the [[383YE_Autumn_Equinox_winds_of_war#Bronze|invasion of Feroz]]. They are known to be masters of [[Army_qualities#Siege|seige warfare]], and the warships of the Golden Wind unload rams and catapults alongside the soldiers themselves.  
The banners of the Iron Gulls are raised. The Empire knows the 'Gulls, veterans of dozens of engagements. They survived the [[382YE_Spring_Equinox_winds_of_war#Leviathan_Wakes_.28Spiral.29|Battle of Solen's Doubt]]. They were at the forefront of the [[383YE_Autumn_Equinox_winds_of_war#Bronze|invasion of Feroz]]. They are known to be masters of [[Army_qualities#Siege|seige warfare]], and the warships of the Golden Wind unload rams and catapults alongside the soldiers themselves.  

Revision as of 21:51, 1 April 2024

A beacon of salt.png
The Freeborn philosophy is that society is best served when every individual is responsible for themselves and to themselves.

City of Sails

The City of a Thousand Sails is always enumerated alongside Meade, Kalpaheim, and the cities of the League. Billowing Siroc, the Sapphire. The hakima say that it was founded by Guerra, that passionate opponent of slavery, driven to build a better world.

Brightly coloured tents extend Siroc out far beyond the small cluster of stone buildings that make up the heart of the city. Sails of all shapes and sizes fill the sheltered bay, guarded by twin towered keeps on either side of the bay along the approach to the harbour. The Salt Guard, designed by Menno van Ritsjhof, and part of the legacy of Imperatrix Lisabetta's plan to armour the Bay of Catazar against the Grendel. Each of the two halves of the Salt Guard is equipped with powerful engines of war, and garrisoned by skilled mariners and corsairs who ensure the towers are always ready to respond to any threat. Between the towers, the iron chains and nets that have guarded the harbour for centuries, since they were first imported at great expense from the forges of Wintermark. Menno van Ritsjhof believed the Salt Guard would make it impossible to assault the City of Rainbow Canvas by sea.

But he was wrong.

Vengeance As A Burning Flame

The first watchers to spy the Grendel Armada approaching assume they must be seeing things. Mistaking a great wave, or a bank of fog, for the wall of masts and sails. Red, green, yellow, and blue, the sails and the mast-banners announce what must surely be the entire Grendel navy speeding from the south-east toward the Madrugan coast. They are low in the water; their holds are packed but presumably with warriors rather than trade goods.

Some of those ships have been seen recently, in other ports across the Bay. Through spyglasses, increasingly panicked watchers make out ships from the yellow-sailed Golden Winds and the green-sailed Tempest. Both navies have anchored off Imperial cities in the last year, escorting merchants, their crew coming ashore to eat and drink in the paradors of Siroc, laughing and joked with the Freeborn, frequenting the markets of the Sapphire, all under the aegis of the two-year peace treaty. The treaty that has just run its course.

There are not only Grendel ships among the armada. As they get closer, as the warning bells echo across the city, the glasses pick out the Asavean warships flanking the main force. Balo's Grace, Leaping Bull and Wind Tamer. The warships that destroyed the Isle of the Justicars, that slaughtered the people of Shantarim. With them a scattering of other war-vessels, far from their home in the distant west.

It's clear why they are here, and were it the Grendel alone it would be bad enough. But the presence of the Asaveans fills those who have an inkling of what is to come with a terrible forboding.

CaptainNationTerritoryBanner
Iñez i Azul-Mar i ErigoThe Brass CoastKahramanBloodgold Jackals

Salt Stone, Iron Net

Massive as the armada is, it must contend with the Salt Guard. Trebuchet and catapult are armed and ready, launching great chunks of stone toward the attacking ships. A cheer goes up as one of the lead Grendel ships, a green-sailed vessel of the Tempest, is smashed to flotsam by the first stone.

Bronze sigils shimmer and flicker across the walls of the twin towers. Imperial magicians have used the potent Autumn magic to magically reinforce the Salt Guard, with power acquired from the realm of the Forge Mistress. The siege engines are loaded by towering bronze constructs drawn from the City of Fire and Stone, the volcano-smithy of Shikal. The magical sigils of fire, stone, strength ripple across the chains and nets as they are raised across the harbour mouth. The marines themselves wait nervously, the sweat that beads their skin not only due to the supernatural warmth the enchantment has brought with it.

A single warband of Freeborn soldiers has come to Siroc to protect the city, taking up places on the walls. They are not the only unexpected defenders. When runners are sent into the city proper, to warn the people, the Commonwealth Embassy responds by sending it's entire garrison to support the Salt Guard. It is hard it imagine that fifty grim-faced warriors dedicated to the common good will make much of a difference in the face of an entire Grendel armada – but they come anyway. They march through the streets as the bells ring and people hurry to gather their families, and maybe a few people take heart from their willingness to defend the Billowing City.

While the people are afraid, they are Freeborn. They do not bow their heads to tyrants, be they human or orc. Those with battle-experience grab weapons kept in cupboards, and strap on old pieces of battered armour. Corsairs and sailors take to their own ships, ready to try and engage any invading vessel that might somehow breach the defences. The doors of the Parador of the Kindled Flame are thrown wide, to any who want to take refuge beside the children behind their walls of white granite.

The Grendel don't know any of this of course – or perhaps they do. There has been talk for some time of an espionage ring in Madruga, sponsored by some spymaster of the Broken Shore. Surely no Freeborn would sell their loyalty to the Brass Coast to the Grendel, no matter how much they were offered. Surely.

It's clear the Armada is prepared, though, for the Salt Guard and the harbour defences. Several of the leading ships of the Tempest have great serrated metal rams attached to the prow, just on the waterline, designed to tangle and rip at the port defences. There are ballistae and catapults on the invading ships that counter the hail of stone and javelins with missiles of their own.

The Asaveans in particular hold back, maintaining a barrage against the two Salt Guard towers, chipping away at even the magically reinforced stone. The Balo's Grace, the Leaping Bull, the Wind Tamer. Named in honour of the blasphemous gods of the Archipelago, they are massive compared to the Grendel vessels that surround them, but still surprisingly manoeuvrable, with triple banks of oars that let them evade all save the luckiest hit.

Then, without any warning, fighting erupts across the harbour itself. Confused reports begin to spread of both humans and orcs making pinpoint strikes at the winches and pulleys that control the web of steel keeping the invading ships from the harbour. Treachery, from within Siroc itself.

Out at sea, perfectly timed to coincide with the attacks against the nets and chains, dozens of smaller boats – rowboats – are launched. They strive for the harbour, hard to target directly, maneuverable, swift. Some are sunk; many more manage to reach the harbour walls and join the attack on the defences. The fighting spills across the docks themselves.

Many of the warriors attacking the harbour are Naguerro, a former sept of the Lasambrian Orcs with a particular hatred for the Empire. Others raise the unfamiliar banner of a shark, ringed by lightning. Both forces seem almost unhinged in their zeal to slaughter the Freeborn defenders and capture the docks, break the defences, leave the city vulnerable.

Step by step the defenders are forced to retreat back toward the fortress-keeps of the Salt Guard. The nets and chains fall. There are Grendel vessels in the harbour itself, more Naguerro and Storm Sharks spilling out across the quayside, spilling out into the city, spilling Freeborn blood with mad abandon.

Canvas Makes a Poor Shield

Not all the Grendel ships storm the harbour. While the green-sailed Tempest and the blue-sailed Simoon take the forefront in the attack, the Golden Wind are busy on the coast outside the city, unloading orc soldiers, covered by the vessels of the red-sailed Shamal.

The banners of the Iron Gulls are raised. The Empire knows the 'Gulls, veterans of dozens of engagements. They survived the Battle of Solen's Doubt. They were at the forefront of the invasion of Feroz. They are known to be masters of seige warfare, and the warships of the Golden Wind unload rams and catapults alongside the soldiers themselves.

Beside them, the Black Eels raise their own standards. They, too, were at Solen's Doubt. They, too, are veterans of the war against the Empire. They enter the city from the south, but where the Iron Gulls are more interested in probing the defenders of the Salt Guard, the Black Eels seem to be here for plunder and mayhem.

In the midst of the two armies a few hundred Grendel soldiers raise the slightly tattered banner of Governor Rahab, who rules over the conquered territories of Feroz to the south. There is a particular grimness to these orcs (and a handful of human mercenaries with them). Some of the Gulls and Eels mock them behind their backs, as they make haste toward the city ahead of the two armies. They seem especially eager to engage the Freeborn defenders.

While the rest of the armada is busy invading the harbour, the Shamal and the Tempest switch positions. Judging by the number of crimson sails the Shamal is smaller than the Tempest, their ships are newer, showing fewer of the marks of war. So too are the army they disgorge from their holds and decks. The standard of the Bone Nautilus, a white-and-gold tentacled spiral beast, are raised. This army is made up primarily of orcs, but there are a significant number of humans in their midst. Some are clearly hard bitten veteran mercenaries, some are keen-eyed youths, but there are also a number of Asavean footsoldiers, in distinctive helms, with spears and shields. They follow the other land troops in an assault against the south side of the city.

Menno van Ritsjhof was reportedly incensed when he discovered that Siroc has little in the way of defence against an attack from the shore. Perhaps the Freeborn felt that their position made it inconceivable that there would be a threat from the ground, rather than the sea. There are walls, but they are nearly as old as the city itself, and they surround the heart of the Sapphire not its borders. Siroc is a city of traders and merchants, that welcomes visitors. There are defences of course, but the Salt Guard is at the heart of them. There are defenders, but again they are focused around the Salt Guard. The three armies approaching by land are quickly in among the tents and pallanquins, and canvas offers little protection against the rapacious invaders.

Falling Salt

The Salt Guard falls. Great metal-bound catapult stones chip away at the walls, and smash the towers. Under the cover of a seemingly random assault, a squad of Naguerra battle-magicians unleash Spring magic against the gates of first one keep, and then barely ten minutes later the other. Rending vines erupting across the wood and stone, ripping it to pieces. The attackers pour inside. Commonwealth and Freeborn soldiers back-to-back, using every trick that the League architects could think of to make it harder for them to seize the fort. One by one the engines of destruction on both sides of the Salt Guard fall silent. The garrison is too busy fighting to survive to focus on the Grendel armada.

Those ships of the Broken Shore who are equipped to do so launch barrage after barrage of missiles against the two towers of the Salt Guard. Those without siege engines on their decks either turn the captured harbour defences against the fortress, or disembark, joining the fighting in the docks and inside the Guard.

At this point, the Asavean vessels move closer. They join the bombardent but their target is not the Salt Guard but the city of Siroc itself. They are seemingly unconcerned about crushing Grendel troops beneath their iron shot. It's not clear what happens but suddenly after a half hour of smashing tents and buildings and fleeing Freeborn and small groups of Grendel, the Asavean weapons still for a few minutes, then open fire against the Salt Guard along with the others. But the damage is done – swathes of the markets and paradors clustered around the quayside, flattened, burning. Dozens of ships, of quays, shattered to splinters. Columns of smoke begin to rise. Fire flickers in some of the windows of the Salt Guard.

With an almighty groan, one of the two Salt Guard keeps begins to collapse in on itself, transformed suddenly into a chimney that sends roaring flames up through the interior. Barrels of oil join the rocks being hurled toward Menno von Rijshof's masterpiece. Those defenders still trapped inside are no longer battling the invading orcs, but fighting to breathe as the smoke rises, fighting to escape as the fire spreads.

As the sun drops towards the eastern horizon, the second tower catches. Those defenders who manage to make it out of the collapsing fortification, coughing, gasping, wheezing, are swiftly dealt with by the invaders.

Fire Spreads

With the Salt Guard shattered, the city is easy prey for the immense force ranged against it. The Grendel have not had it all their own way; the courage of the Salt Guard has purchased vital hours for those who can see what is coming to flee the city, north toward Lightsea or west to one of the bridges across the Scorrero, toward Segura.

The Grendel follow. Over the next few months, the invaders spread north along the coast into Lightsea. Quzar falls before the Iron Gulls, despite the best efforts of the hakima and masters of Autumn magic supporting the defenders. The Parador of Salt and Sand is torn apart by the Naguerro, who loot many of the treasures within, treasures carried out of Feroz by fleeing magicians.

At the same time, the Black Eels loot and raid the port towns freely, killing any who try to resist, but seemingly unconcerned about hose who wish to free – unless they try to take their wealth with them.

Three of the Grendel navies, supported by the Bone Nautilus and the Asavean warships, assail Free Landing, assaulting the port towns of the corsairs. These islands were the first proper home for the Freeborn – and for the second time the Grendel seize Atalaya, the fount from which the entire Brass Coast flowed. Mudport falls to the Shamal and the Golden Sails. The Tempest seizes the Shining Pillar – that great white-and-gold tower familiar to every sailor along the Bay of Catazar, sometimes used as a symbol for the Brass Coast itself. When a sailor can see the beacon of the Shining Pillar, they know they are home. After the Grendel take the island on which it stands, the beacon falters, and goes out, for the first time in centuries the Shining Pillar does not shine.

Meanwhile the Simoom concerns itself with besieging the Isle of the Lyceum. The magicians there fight back, supported by their Commonwealth allies at the Lyceum Schloss. Contact with the island has been sporadic at best; it is not clear if the entire island has been conquered or what the state of the grand libraries, arcane academics, or students is. There is little hope that they may be able to hold out against the Grendel and their allies. There is a great deal of worry about what the Grendel might do with the vast stores of lore contained within the Lyceum.

As with Winter Solstice approaches... but wait. That's in the future. We aren't done with Siroc yet.

The Last Sight

Before the Grendel sweep across the rest of Madruga, on land and sea, they finish the conquest of Siroc. The offices of the Mistress of the Glass Parador are looted, by the honour guard of Governor Rahab of Feroz. Perhaps the wealth they manage to steal here will make up for the fortune Rahab lost when the Scorrero Nets collapsed?

The Bone Nautilus surround the Parador of the Kindled Flame, eager to capture those who have sought sanctuary within, eager to carry away the children whose home it is to a life of slavery. When they finally breach the heavy oak doors, they find the place deserted. No sign of anyone hiding.

They have no way of knowing, but the children, their guardians, and those who accepted the offer of safety within the walls, are long gone. As the flames consumed the Salt Guard, two dozen friends of the Prince of a Thousand Foes revealed themselves, and the sewer entrance, and lead those who would otherwise have been trapped in the orphanage to safety. They are already well on their way to Segura.

The same story unfolds across Siroc. Guardian angels – most mortal, a some decidedly not – reveal themselves and help people escape what is to come. Without their unexected – and mostly invisibile - aid, a great many more people would have died when the city fell. If anyone bothers to ask – and most people are simply grateful for the aid – they say that they are discharging a service for the Archmage of Spring. They run when they can, they fight when they must, but they never try to hide. They discourage hiding, for some reason.

While many escape, many more do not. The Grendel take a few slaves but once the city falls they seem more interested in bearing away its loot rather than its people. The same cannot be said for the Asaveans. Now that the Salt Guard has fallen, the warships and mercenaries of the far west join in the conquest of the city. They are absolutely without mercy, killing anyone who comes within spear-reach or sword-reach.

It is they who lead the attack against the House of the Way, one of the oldest congregations in the Brass Coast. They smash the doors, shatter beautiful windows that have blazed in the setting sun for two hundred years, slaughter the priests and sutannir. Even the Naguerro seem a little taken aback by their zeal for slaughter, these human warriors from far away across the sea.

The Asaveans are also the ones who set the fires. Despite the chaos, the Grendel are careful to make sure that the city of tents does not burn. For a day and a night, they rampage through Siroc, taking everything they can find, everything they can carry. Then as the sun sets on the second day after the fall, as the armies regroup on the plains outside the city for the march north and west, as the navies withdraw to anchorages along the coast, the Asavean warships launch barrels of burning oil into the city. Another, and another, and another. The sky turns red, the glow growing like a baleful promise.

Asavean captains, more than a dozen cold-eyed scions of the patrician families - and it seems all the major families are represented – watch from the shoreline. They are not alone. Their soldiers have taken carefully selected prisoners. Where possible they are sutannir, or priests of the Way, or dhomiro of one family or other. Two dozen, no more, dragged in manacles to the waterline south of the city.

As the barrels of oil fly, as burning brands are touched to the kindling piled all across the city, as Siroc burns, these prisoners are forced to watch. And then, as the fire stretches across the horizon, the final cruelty.

The last priests of the God of Chains are with the Asaveans and at a nod form the captains, they murder each of the prisoners. The last thing they see as they are hurled untimely into the Labyrinth is the jewel of Madruga, the Sapphire, their Billowing City, burning as the first stars of evening glitter in the uncaring sky.

All save threee. These last three - one Erigo, one Riqueza, one Guerra - are released once the fires start to die down. Pushed into the surf, discarded like refuse, like jetsam on the coast of Brass, the last words of their captors echoing in their ears.

“We were an Empire before any of your petty kingdoms existed; we have no more lessons to learn about vengeance. But we can teach.”

Game Information: Madruga

The Grendel armada has seized three regions of Madruga: Siroc Plains, Lightsea, and Free Landing. As detailed in the Not a drop to drink Wind of Fortune, the blight of the Great Grasses remains contained thanks to the enchantment that has been diligently cast each prior season. As predicted however it has also stabilized in a way that means the region is no longer under Imperial control. As a consequence, with the Freeborn only controlling Calvos Sound and Torres, they have lost control of the territory. The Grendel have not, however, taken control of the territory; they only control three of the six regions. The territory is thus considerd contested – although the Senator for Madruga loses their seat in the Senate regardless.

The Salt Guard was overwhelmed and destroyed, but it provided sufficient defence to slow the Grendel invasion. Without it, and its enchantment, the armada may have had sufficient strength to launch a significant attack on Calvos Sound as well as the three regions it captured.

Losses: Imperial Titles

A number of Imperial titles have lost powers and sources of income.

Madruga no longer has a Senator.

The Mistress of the Glass Parador and the Hakima of Salt and Sand no longer have ministries. The titles still exist, however, and still have any appropriate responsibilities.

The Commonwealth Embassy has been destroyed. The Ambassador to the Commonwealth has lost their ministry but maintains their other powers. The Commonwealth is likely to have a strong opinion about the destruction of its embassy in the Empire.

Freeborn Flame Marina is in Grendel hands. The benefits it provided, allowing fleets of the Brass Coast to be upgraded more easily have been lost to the Freeborn, although it might be possible to regain the benefit if it were liberated.

The Empire no longer controls the Lyceum. This means the Dean of the Lyceum has lost their ability to codify ritual texts, the benefits of the Quiet Annexe, and access to their apartments. They remain Arbiter of Imperial Lore however. Unfortunately, one of this things they have also lost is the work on the ritual text they were codifying; it is still on the island itself.

The Parador of the Kindled Flame has been ruined, along with the city of Siroc itself. The devastation is sufficient to give Siroc Plains the ruins quality.

Losses: Military

The loss of Siroc has struck a devastating blow to the Brass Coast. The wealth of the Sapphire has been taken by the Grendel and the city itself comprehensively burnt. Furthermore, the Grendel have captured the wealthy ports of Lightsea and Free Landing. Coupled with the loss of the entire territory of Feroz, this means that The Brass Coast can no longer support their three armies. If not for the Iron Qanat, they would only be able to support a single army. Regardless the outcome is the same; following the Winter Solstice, they will begin to decline due to insufficient supply.

Assuming nothing else significant changes, the Freeborn will reclaim their ability to support armies once they are again in control of two of the prosperous coastal regions of the Brass Coast - Free Landing, Lightsea, Cazar Straits, Oranseri, or Fortargenta. This presumes they remain in control of Calvos SOund and the port-town of Calvos; if they lose that they will need to reconquer three regions.

The only silver lining is that the situation will not get worse - a nation is either "out of supply" or it is not. So even if the Brass Coast loses further territory their armies will not decline any faster - but it might mean that they have further to go before they can reclaim their ability to supply their armies.