Root and branch

Golden Sun and Blue Skies

Spring turns toward Summer in the Barrens. It is, and has always been, a wild territory and the stewardship of Dawn is unlikely to change that any time soon. It can be a little disconcerting how beautiful the place can be, given the history of this vast tract of land that has been torn between Empire and the Mallum for centuries. For all the death, all the blood spilled and all the sorrow, it is still a living, vibrant place. Flowers explode across Dawnguard, Murderdale, and the Carmine Fields. Farms well-established and newly carved out burgeon with grain across the western Barrens, under the bright sun and the dark blue skies. Further east, there are hunters in the woods and the high hills - yeofolk after deer and boars, nobles after more deadly prey.

In the north, the Rahvin are in command of the Bitter Strand. They do not welcome visitors - save for those who fought alongside them and helped their sept survive the violence unleashed by the Gryphon's Pride. Even those who risked their lives to help them are not truly welcome, but they at least are not turned away. That much trust they have earned, paid for in blood. Perhaps, in time, this might widen into a wider accommodation. They are too busy for trade anyway; harvesting wood and stone to build homes, forging mithril and iron into weapons and shields for their army.

In the south, along the borders with benighted Therunin, the Great Forest Orcs have finished restoring their settlement - and building an odd weirwood fortification to protect it. By all accounts they and their Navarr allies are preparing for the horror to come as the vallorn spreads through the Druj controlled territory.

There are Navarr spread across the Barrens now, establishing small settlements here and there near their orc allies or near Last Battle Wayhouse in the Bleaks. The Karass do not welcome them, not even a little bit, and glare at their backs when they think they are not looking. Yet for now at least they restrict themselves to glares, and the odd griping comment to anyone who will listen. They rarely come out and say it but they seem to resent the wayhouse more, perhaps, than they have ever openly resented the Dawnish conquest of their homes.

In the east, Dawn keeps the garrison at Houndsgate well supplied and well stocked with arms and armour. The challenges of traversing the Bleaks and the Untrod Groves, in the absence of an easier route through the Bitter Strand, means that maintaining the connection between the east and the west Barrens can sometimes become a little tenuous. Not that anyone gives the five Imperial armies marching through the Barrens any trouble, of course.

From the West

Five armies, fresh from their reverie at the Golden Magicians fayre in Astolat, marching through the Barrens. The Granite Pillar and the Eastern Sky lead the way alongside the new-mustered Lions of Adelmar. More controversially, both the Gryphon’s Pride and the Northern Eagle are here. The last time the Varushkan army was here it was to destroy the Montanians. The last time the ‘Pride were here… well everyone knows that story no doubt. Not that there is any trouble - why would there be with the Rahvin safely at Bitter Strand and the Great Forest Orcs in their new homes? But their presence is a reminder of the past - it can be difficult to shake off the clinging shadow of your past.

Most of the denizens of the Barrens that the armies see are Karass orcs, and not even that many of those. Neither the Untrod Groves nor the Bleaks are particularly hospitable - these are wild woodlands where entire armies could get lost and never be seen again. There is darkness under the trees, the kind of darkness that makes the Varushkans at least feel at home in a way the bright blue skies and golden sun of the farmlands does not. Yet those shadows cannot hope to hold much menace, not with the other force that marches through the Barrens with the Empire.

Here we do not talk of Imperial captains - although there are more than enough of them, mostly fighting with the Northern Eagle - but with the shining knights of the Summer realm. True to her words, the Lady of Pennants has sent her finest warriors to battle beside the armies of the Empire who took part in the grand tourneys and feasting in Astolat last season. More than ten thousand knights called from the Fields of Glory to accompany Imperial soldiers into the Mallum.

While many knights have fought alongside the Empire in the recent past, this season Eleonaris sends five of her Lords of the Pennants and their cohorts to fight with the Empire. Some of the Imperial armies have history with these particular nobles. The Eastern Sky are reunited with the heroes under the command of Dindrayne, the proud feather-browed war-witch with a staff of adamant. Ser Gaspare, wrapped in her great white bearskin cloak over her crimson plate once again joins the Northern Eagle, her proud golden-eyed schlacta ready to lock their unbreakable shields into a bulwark of adamant against the cruel spears and barbed arrows of the Druj. For their very first battle, the Lions of Adelmar are joined by Lady Moriamis, a golden-eyed warrior-poet and a cohort of warsingers, inspiring their fellow knights with both their words and their deeds to acts of heroism and glory even in the face of the grim realities of war against the Druj. With the Granite Pillar, the rune-armoured hammersmiths of the herald Elodian, whose discipline matches that of the Highborn soldiers and whose thunderous hammer blows send any foe foolish enough come within their reach sprawling back into the mud. Few rise again. And with the Gryphon's Pride marches Kore, the lion-maned warlord in scarlet armour, with his battalion of swift-footed knights with the lower bodies of great cats. All told, ten thousand Knights of Glory, who despise the cowardly, treacherous Druj even more than the Empire does.

The armies - mortal and eldritch alike - stop briefly at the Last Battle Wayhouse. A sea of Imperial troops spread out through the trees of the Untrod Groves. The wayhouse cannot provide enough hospitality for even a fraction of the soldiers here but they do their best to welcome their allies nonetheless. Campfires burn like earthbound stars through the woods and if the Karass are unhappy about it, they keep their concerns to themselves. Perhaps just as well - the lords of Eleonaris’ court seem to have little affection for the orcs of these dense forests. Two days they remain here, before starting to move again. This time, they are accompanied by a dozen land-wise Navarr pathfinders from the Last Battle striding. They have made it their business to get to know the border between the Barrens and Sarangrave, to scout out the best places to cross over into Nesustak Forest and the Turan Flats. The latter is the target of the Imperial march, and as the sun rises on the last day of spring, the host of the Empire enters the Mallum.

Those Already There

There are, of course, already Imperial forces in the Sarangrave but they are far away from the Turan Flats. At the start of the year, four Imperial armies - the Citadel Guard, the Winter Sun, the Towerjacks and the Golden Axe - marched up through the night-haunted forests of Lustri and into Bloodwater March. They faced down the Druj armies here to lick their wounds and resupply. As the year grew older they pressed further north to the shores of the Feverwater, pushing the Druj defenders back step by step.

Almost immediately after the Spring Equinox, the Towerjacks quit Sarangrave, retracing their steps beneath the Stork’s Gaze into Zenith proper and from there into Morrow. They have their tools with them, ready to help their allies complete the citadel they are building in Peregro. Along the shore of some of the hot springs the Towerjacks meet the Navarr of the Quiet Step, who have come down from Reikos at the command of the Throne to join the fight in Sarangrave. The mud-spattered soldiers of the League spend a night camped alongside the thorns of Navarr, sharing news of the campaign against the Druj on one hand and that of the Empire on the other. One leaving the Mallum to recover in Morrow, the other leaving the Empire to fight in Sarangrave.

They make good time, the Quiet Step, barely pausing on their long hike through Lustri to the edges of the Bloodwater Marsh, and if their hearts yearn to look upon Therunin instead… well hearts can be silenced and every Navarr knows the value of sacrifice.

Dark Clouds

Summer in Sarangrave, and the heat swiftly makes anything it touches sticky and unpleasant. Some mud dries, cracking like old tiles; some thickens into a glutinous quagmire that seems eager to suck an unsuspecting boot from a foot or in some cases to swallow an unwary traveller whole. When the golden sun is at its highest, even the wasps and biting flies seem too tired to fly and sting and bite. Those baking hours provide little respite, though. Supplies of clean water run low, and if not for the Rivers of Life sending health and healing through the entire territory it might prove a challenge for the soldiers of the Empire to quench their thirsts and clear the sweat from their eyes.

In a way, the brightness is at odds with the Druj miasma that smothers the Sarangrave. Those who've never encountered it before are particularly unprepared. When unspoken dread suddenly ambushed a soldier walking along a darkened path in the Forest of Ulnak, it is half expected. When existential terror surges through someone under cloudless cerulean skies in the middle of the day with the golden sun shining... that's a different matter. The Knights of Glory, as they have several times before, are often on hand with a reassuring pat on the shoulder or a rousing comment about the death of the Druj, but even their presence only helps muffle the symptoms. At night, when the temperature is barely any cooler, and the nocturnal beasts of the marshes and the forest come out to feast on the blood of Imperial soldiers, it is not uncommon to hear sobs, or a voice quietly praying that the paragons make this campaign swift, and sometimes perhaps that voice is your own.

Bloodwater Marsh

At the start of the year, three Imperial armies swept through the woodlands of Lustri, out of Urizen and into the Mallum. They faced down the forces of the Druj, and slowly but surely made headway toward conquering the Bloodwater Marshes. As the year grows older, they continue to press against the barbarian forces in the Sarangrave. They, too, are bolstered by cohorts of golden knights from the Fields of Glory - another six thousand knights in gold and scarlet armour, eager to fight the orcs of the Mallum and their twisted allies.

They are still joined in battle against the Hidden Widow, the Red Lizard, and the White Lion. The latter are clearly taking the lead in defending Sarangrave; the banners of the pale ant hang over the defenders, perhaps the most disciplined of the Druj armies. It almost seems at some points that along with the garrison of the Tower of the Skink they are holding the line against the Empire all by themselves.

It’s an illusion, though. The other two armies are simply better at attacking from ambush, of fading back into the marshes after a swift strike, of striking from a distance and then immediately retreating in the vain hope of drawing over-zealous Imperials into a trap. In the absence of the Towerjacks, the Druj begin to gain the upper hand, push the Empire back a few miles, and for a time seem to think that they may have the measure of the Empire.

News filters down from the north that the Black Wind are on the move, that they have left Therunin and come to the defence of the Sarangrave. It’s doubtful they are doing this for any particular love of the septs here. It seems most likely they are drawn by the presence of the Golden Axe. After the Dawnish, the former siblings of the Rahvin hate the Varushkans most of all. Fortunately, before they can reach the southern regions, the Quiet Step arrive to reinforce the Imperial line.

The Rivers of Life flow through the Sarangrave - the Druj have conjured that verdant power to bolster their own defences but the indiscriminate effects protect Imperial soldiers as well as the warriors of the Mallum. Even in the marshes, where disease and infection are a constant concern, no wound that is not in itself fatal will claim the life of anyone who survives the mortal blow, provided they take a few mouthfuls of water. And the water of the marshes is as wholesome, right now, as that taken from the freshest spring in the highest mountains of Zenith.

None of the Druj armies themselves seem to bear enchantments, but nonetheless they have odd supernatural allies of their own. There are comparatively few sightings of eight-legged crocodiles or other terrors that were encountered last season, but rather attacks from black-feathered bird-like creatures with the faces of cats. They sing melodiously, their music causing discord and confusion in the minds of those who hear them, scrambling their perception of who they are. Fortunately, both those crowned with horns by the Autumn realm prove remarkably resistant to this torturous music; and the orcs of the Winter Sun prove equally capable of ignoring the confusion that might otherwise cause them to fail their allies. The feathered beasts soon learn to fear the arrows loosed from Imperial bows.

It is clear to the Citadel Guard that there is a powerful conjured ward of Night magic somewhere in the territory - something like those misty forts the Empire borrows from the Brother of Wizards from time to time. All they can say with certainty is that it is not here in Bloodwater Marsh.

Nor is it the only such magical structure, and that causes a little confusion of its own when the effects become clear. There is a Wooden Fastness in the Nesustak Forest, it seems, yet it is not aiding the Druj. Nor for that matter is it aiding the Empire. Instead, it seems to serve as the stronghold of an unknown number of allies of the Shacklebreaker, that Spring eternal who teaches the lost to hide, and the scared to run, and the furious to fight. If the Citadel Guard know more about its presence - and some of the Urizen magicians allow themselves a certain self-possessed smile when the matter is raised, as of one who knows they have done a difficult thing well - they do not elaborate.

But we’ll come to that later, perhaps.

The Shears of Fate

The battle in the south is almost balanced; between the Druj armies and the garrison of their great fortress and their conjured fort and the four Imperial armies and the summoned knights the defenders of the Mallum may even have the upper hand - especially as their tactics favour defence more than the Empire’s more cautious tactics favour conquest. Bolstered by the Black Wind, it seems that they might not only deny the Imperial advance but also drive them back a step or twelve. Then the rest of the Empire attacks the Turan Flats and everything changes, changes completely.

The Druj orcs are suddenly caught between the mountains and a sea of Imperial steel. Five fresh armies, eight thousand Knights of Glory, pushing into the Turan Flats and the Druj defences focused in the south. The Black Wind immediately abandon the defence of the Bloodwater Marsh, racing north to face the Gryphon’s Pride and the Eastern Sky. They take half the garrison of the Tower of the Skink with them, and most of the healers and apothecaries of the Red Lizard. That leaves the White Lion - whose disciplined defence is proving quite effective - and the Hidden Widow who, for a change, are more focused on slowing and diverting the Empire than they are on poisoning them.

The Druj are vicious when cornered but they are also outnumbered and outplayed. The intelligence gathered by the Last Battle striding, and the support of the wayhouse and the Navarr makes all the difference in the Turan Flats. By the time the Black Wind and the garrison of the Tower are in position to try and slow them they are already laying siege to the settlement of Turan. The notoriously cruel het of the Banded Snakes who rule there - Trakaa, known for his insatiable hunger for tormenting Imperial prisoners - rallies the warriors of his sept. Unfortunately the majority of his warriors fight under the banner of the Hidden Snake and they are far from the marshes of Sarangrave right now. Yet Turan is by no means defenceless - a cadre of tortured souls are bound to Trakaa it seems. Former heroes of Dawn and Urizen, taken by the Druj and twisted into monstrous unliving warriors whose love for their Imperial siblings has been transformed into the darkest hate. They do not stay dead, and their former prowess now serves the dark will of the het.

When they arrive, the garrison of the Tower bolsters the defences of Turan, but the Black Wind are more interested in trying to kill as many Dawnish warriors as they can - and the healing power of Spring that flows through the territory must be particularly frustrating to them.

Just as frustrating, no doubt, is the presence of the Lions of Adelmar. The army is untested, and has been hurled into the hurricane indeed with its first campaign being in the Mallum. Yet they are stalwart, standing strong against the threat of the Druj and the terrible miasma that hangs over Sarangrave. They fight to defend not only themselves but their allies, creating a barrier of Dawnish steel against the enemy. The war-witches versed in healing magic and the yeofolk physicks both work tirelessly to ensure that anyone who falls and can be saved, is saved. The Black Wind focus much of their attention on the new army, but the rest of the Empire - especially the Eastern Sky and the Gryphon’s Pride - are as swift to come to their aid as they are to support the rest of the Imperial force.

The fighting is bloody, even in spite of the Spring healing, but in the end Turan falls to the Empire. The Banded Snake are forced to scatter - some to their holdings in the strangely enchanted Nesustak Forest others to the dubious sanctuary of the Marshlizard sept or the ghulai of the Palace of the Sleepers.

Across the River, Into the Woods

The northern force doesn’t delay; as soon as they have secured Turan they begin to plan the crossing of the slow-moving river that flows south through Bendol to the Feverwater. The Druj have built no bridges, preferring to rely on boats and rafts it appears. The Empire secures as many of the Turan boats as they can but they have also made their own preparations. After all, they knew they would need to cross the river and so wagonloads of lumber gathered in the Barrens and collected in Astolat are broken out. A bridge of pontoons is put together, quickly reaching across the river and allowing the Empire to begin the assault into the weird marshes of Kroll.

Further south, the Druj defence is in disarray with the attack from the north and the rapid departure of two of the defensive armies. The White Lion fight like cornered rats but the writing is on the wall. The Empire pushes, the Druj collapse like a house of cards, retreating in confusion toward the Whisperwood and the palace of the Thornwasp sect at Uklead. The Empire quickly secures the Bloodwater Marsh and follows after them.

At first they are especially cautious, worried about the threat of a supernatural ward on the Whisperwood but soon discover no such magic is in place. There are, however, a surprising number of traps and deadfalls.

(And while the Bloodwater is secured, there are no sign of the Bloodwater Spears - the sept that Prognosticator Graciana had identified three years ago that might be persuaded to fight against the Druj were they suitably armed and armoured. Their homes are abandoned, but with a kind of ordered chaos that suggests to the Winter Sun that they left of their own volition rather than taking disordered flight. The only clues as to what might have happened is a recent carving on the lintel of one of the village shacks that, if one squint, might seem to be an image of a rabbit or hare with curling horns).

Further to the north, the other Imperial force has bridged the sluggish, muddy river but the crossing is no less perilous. The Druj defenders of Sarangrave pepper them with arrows, launching frenzied attacks when the armies are at their most vulnerable. They have reckoned without the Lions of Adelmar, first across the river, who hold the southern bank while their allies make the crossing. After a tense hour or so of effectively taking the brunt of the enemy attack against their shields, enough Imperial soldiers are on the shores of Kroll to turn the tide and force the Druj to retreat.

As the southern expeditionary force begins to move through Whisperwood, the northern expeditionary force takes its first steps toward conquest of the marshes of Kroll. And then the news of an unlooked for development comes from the south…

Dark Beneath the Boughs

It is perhaps six weeks before the Summer Solstice that the curtain of darkness begins to fall over the woods of Lustri. A smothering veil of night seeps down from the north-west. There are few spires in Lustri these days, but the lamps of the heliopticon explode with light. The Druj are coming, down out of Therunin along the shores of the Feverwater. A host of orcs moving through the woods, striking south and east. It seems that almost all the armies that recently ravaged the Navarr marshes have attacked out of East Ashes into Zenith.

Perhaps they hoped that by delaying they would achieve a surprise attack, but those hopes are dashed. The vigilance of the people of Urizen, supported by Synod mandate and inspired by the sword scholars of the House of the Wanderer catches the Druj a little off guard. The alarm is raised, and word spreads across Lustri and more importantly beyond. Defenders take up arms to slow or hold the advance of the Mallum orcs, and the garrison of Stork’s Gaze marches west. Yet almost from the start, the Urizen are forced to retreat. The size of the force arrayed against them is simply too great.

The defence very nearly ends in disaster before it even gets started. A second force of Druj - the bulk of those under the banners of the Hunting Scorpion - have claimed boats from the docks at Feverwater. Supplemented with hastily constructed rafts, the orcs of the Mallum seek to trap the soldiers protecting Zenith between them in a terrible pincer movement. There is just enough warning from the vigilant patrols - a single sighting of a boat moving stealthily to shore swiftly communicated to the sentinels of the Gaze - and many of the soldiers marching from Stork’s Gaze are able to react swiftly enough to pull south. Sadly several hundred are still taken by surprise and mercilessly butchered by the warriors of that displaced Amber Scorpion sept who once held Ossium in their cruel grip.

Sometimes the Druj act carefully, with subtle malice. This is not one of those times. The Druj waste no time at all, an overwhelming assault against the north-eastern Urizen territory they once held. With the Thorn Born at the head under the brambled-banners, they spread quickly through the woods. They seem less interested in securing the spires here than they are in launching an assault against the fortification that watches the borders with Sarangrave but any spires that fall into their hands - any that are not hidden away with Night magic - are swiftly, brutally, smashed apart.

The sentinels of Stork’s Gaze rally with the virtuous defenders, a desperate fight to hold the borders against the Druj. They hold for three days; the last heliopticon message from the fortification is a simple “remember us”. The Stork’s Gaze burns. Yet those brave sentinels do not die alone - one of the copper spiders of the City of Bridges escapes the destruction and speaks of the courage of the garrison, of the forest around the fortress scattered hip-deep in the bodies of the Druj before the gates were breached and the towers broken.

With the fortification broken, the Druj armies split into two forces. The first, largest force with the Thorn Born at their head, spread out through Lustri to deal with the remaining defenders and finish claiming the region for themselves. They are met at every turn by battle mages and warriors and magicians from further south. They eventually claim the region but they must fight every step and thanks to the perseverance, to the watchfulness, of the Urizen the invasion is almost entirely contained in Lustri.

The second, smaller group of invading orcs, remains in the ruins of the Stork’s Gaze to ensure that the border with the Sarangrave remains strong. Reports suggest the Tainted Basilisk are here, something that should be enough to raise concern against any Imperial strategist. The Druj are free to rain curses or raise defences of their own across Zenith again.

There is little panic, if that is what the Druj hoped for. The magicians of Zenith lost everything the last time the orcs of the Mallum came to their territory. They will not be laid low so easily again... whatever vile sorcery the corrupt ghulai of the Tainted Basilisk might be planning.

Desperation

The four armies in the south are now cut off from the rest of the Empire by Druj to the south and east, vallorn to the north, and the hungry Feverwater lake to the west. When the news of their predicament finally reaches them it adds a new desperation to the fighting in the Whisperwood, a new urgency to the fight to join up with the northern forces.

In the north, the news likewise inspires the other Imperial armies to push forward into the eerie marshes of Kroll. Here the Druj warriors are reinforced by the militia of the Marshlizards - who barely raised a finger to help Het Trakaa but now welcome those fighters fleeing Turan. Not as allies so much as a fleshy buffer between them and the Empire.

Yet the Marshizards only control parts of Kroll. The Sept of Masks also hold territory here, surrounding the Palace of the Sleepers along the shore of the deep, dark lake that laps along the base of the odd conical hill on which it is built. These are the same ghulai that were encountered exploring the outskirts of Béantal Dol, the same allies of the Thornwasp sept who march with the Tainted Basilisk. At first they do not seem to be any great threat; they are ritual magicians rather than vikari.

The Red Lizard army fights with particular ferocity, while the herb masters among their number fight to ensure that the Empire kills as few of the Druj defenders as possible. The Black Wind continue to seek to face and slaughter Dawnish soldiers, and several times it is clear that they favour that strategy over defending their Marshlizard “allies”. The sept has taken its own precautions, though. Night magic infuses the marsh here, a potent enchantment that grants succour to the Druj, that grants supernatural advantage to their ability to sneak and hide, that turns the wetlands themselves against the invaders. The most apparent symptom of the magic is that the marsh octopus - the vicious little predators with their venomous beaks and delicious meat - seem to be on the verge of frenzy. The smaller ones swarm like piranha or rats, slipping through the thick mud to ambush sentries or most horribly of all emerge from swampy ground within army camps when the night is at its darkest. By themselves they would be horrible enough, but there are also much larger examples of this peculiar breed. While most marsh octopus found in Zenith are barely the size of a person’s head with arms to match, those are clearly newborns. The adults and elders are a significantly greater threat. There are reports of a band of Northern Eagle scouts being ambushed by a cephalapoid terror with a body the size of an ox-cart and awful meaty limbs of proportional length and muscular strength.

As time ticks away, as the Empire’s advance appears unstoppable, more and more warriors from the Tower of the Skink desert the defence of the Whisperwood and come north, leaving the Thornwasp to look after themselves, much more motivated to keep their own sept lands safe.

It is both enough, and not enough. The Empire presses through the Whisperwood slowly, but makes significantly greater gains in the north. Things might have been a little different if the Druj had followed their usual strategy of creating many magical wards and fortifications across the territory, but as it is the Imperial forces in Kroll close inexorably on the Palace of the Sleepers.

First They Must Catch You

Empire and Druj and Empire, and along the northern borders of Zenith, Druj again. Yet there is another force active in Sarangrave this season, that seems to owe allegiance to neither side. The Bloodwater Spears are not the only orcs that simply seem to be… missing. As the fighting rages in Turan Flats, in Kroll, in Whisperwood and along the shores of the Feverwater, there are signs of this other force if one knows how to look.

Labour camps deserted, their guards slain not by Imperial swords and arrows but by blunt instruments and improvised weapons. To the Citadel Guard and the Granite Pillar alike it is clear the attack has come from within the camp rather than without. The slaves who might have been penned there are simply gone, any tracks they might have left lost in the marshes.

Farms, likewise, abandoned, derelict. No sign of any farm worker, no sign of their tools, perhaps most significantly, no signs of the stores of rice and grain. Even the herds of hardy marsh-dwelling goats tended in some of these places are gone, the eel and octopus traps emptied. Not everyone has disappeared, but enough. The Winter Sun investigate as best they can but find the former slaves they speak with closed mouthed, frightened, uncommunicative. The Golden Axe and the Northern Eagle have a little more success loosening the tongues of Druj prisoners, who seem equally baffled by what is happening, but also cocky and sneering confident that once the Empire is defeated and driven out they will hunt these traitorous slaves down and make an example of them. Again, the Citadel Guard simply nod, and change the subject when the matter is brought up.

Eventually, some of the Winter Sun are able to convince a former slave to speak to them. Those who are fleeing, in the north and the south, are doing so with the aid of the Reedleaper - a spirit of the deep marshes that helps the victims of the Druj survive their wickedness. Sometimes Reedleaper helps them flee, sometimes it helps them hide, and sometimes it helps a few fight, although that usually ends the same tragic way. The spirit teaches secrets - how to break the chains and spears of the hated guards, how to sing away the pain and torment of those who have been tormented by the slave masters, how to mend broken bones and endure the cruel lash of whips. Sometimes it teaches even greater secrets, to those with the will and wit to listen. But always it reminds them that this is not the way the world is meant to be and that they must never accept the lies of the Druj that tell them they are nothing.

Reedleaper is familiar to the Sunstorm sept at least. There are stories of similar aid offered to the orcs during the Orc rebellion. It seems Irra Harah is in the Sarangrave, but that the extent of his influence is degrees of magnitude greater this season than it has been before. The former slave admits that there is something happening in the Nesustak Forest, but what it is and what it means they will not say. Two nights later, that talkative orc has vanished along with their entire family from the Winter Sun camp.

The Glass Vice

The Druj are caught between the four armies in the south and the five in the north, but that is only the start of their troubles. The Citadel Guard, you see, have a strategy. As they advance, they weave Autumn magic around themselves and around the soldiers of the other three armies. Even the news that they are cut off from their home does not trouble their poise. They weave their magic, and at several points they drive tall spikes of green iron into the marsh topped with clear, bright lightstones. They invoke the constellation of the Chain, and the Web, and the Lock. They call on the seventy-two secret names of the Lictors of the Autumn Realm. They wield the Technique of the Coiling Chain and all across Sarangrave their magic takes hold.

The Druj armies are distracted, fighting on two fronts and unaware of the danger until it is too late. Autumn magic wielded with consummate expertise, catches them like rats in a trap. The marsh twists beneath the boots of the Black Wind and the Red Lizard. The sticky Summer air seems to thicken around the Hidden Widow and the White Lion.

They are caught now, trapped in invisible amber, wound in incorporeal chains. They may be able to flee Sarangrave but they will not get far. The inescapable curse of the Glass Labyrinth has them and none can walk its twisting paths with surety.

The God in the Lake

But there are other magicians in Sarangrave than those of the Citadel Guard and it would be dangerous to become overconfident. In Kroll, the Empire closes in on the Palace of Sleepers, despite the best efforts of the Druj armies, and the garrison of the great fortification in Thornfen and the magically empowered marsh and octopus. It is an unsettling sight, this so-called college of magic. The parts of the structure visible above the ground is a mishmash of walls and roofs, and stubby towers like fingers reaching hungrily toward the sky. The peculiar, almost conical hill it is built atop and within is shrouded in twisted trees that claw toward the Summer sky, and a shroud of thick mist that never seems to dissipate. It stands on the edge of a great dark watered lake, avoided by everyone save the ghulai who squat in the twisted palace.

The scouts who first explored the Sarangrave spoke of an odd statue of a giant multi-armed horror slumped next to the hill, right on the edge of the black lake. It is here that the ghulai of the Sept of Masks seem to have chosen to begin their stand against the Empire. Everyone is mud-spattered and exhausted on both sides, save the magicians. They stand arrogantly in heavy woollen robes of clashing green and purple that must be sweltering in the Summer heat, their faces completely hidden behind oversized wooden masks gaudily painted with snarling, howling, laughing, weeping expressions that are deeply unsettling to gaze on for two long. Even the Black Wind seem to give them a wide berth, for some reason.

As the Dawnish and Varushkan forces draw up, a warning murmur spreads from the Granite Pillar. Something is not right. There is, in the midst of the Druj, a wooden cage. A scarred Highborn captain wordlessly passes her spyglass to the other commanders. The cage contains a score of humans and orcs - several still wearing scraps of their soldiers’ surcote or tabard. All show signs of torment, wounds received in battle, and fear. One of them tries to inspire the others to join him in the Battle Hymn of the Empire but is brutally struck down by one of the Druj. What new horror have the Black Wind prepared?

Yet it becomes clear that it is not the Black Wind that are in charge here. With a terrible cry, the ghulai of the Sept of Masks begin a mad, desperate, whirling dance. Ripples of uncertainty go through the imperial ranks and the orders are swiftly given to cautiously advance. Before anyone can take more than seven steps, the magicians all tear away their wooden masks and fling them into the waters of the lake. Beneath they wear a ‘’second’’ mask, a much tighter mask, of mottled green that fits more snugly to their heads, fringed with drooping tentacles, and a single yellow-painted eye in the middle of their forehead.

"Ya, Kroll!" they cry. "Come to us oh you God of the Lake! Feed upon these who would invade your home and slaughter your children!"

At this sign, the cage full of Imperial captives is pushed unceremoniously into the lake. It sinks mercifully swiftly, but it is certain that those poor people contained within are drowned before the Empire’s soldiers can do much but voice their fury and outrage. The front lines of the Druj and the Imperials clash, blood flows, screams of orc and human mingle together and then…

The cautious Highborn cataphracts and guardians sound the alarm again. Something is rising in the great black lake. The waters surge upward, breaking their banks and washing knee deep along the shores. The Druj begin to fall back, swiftly, clearly something they had planned. Something is rising in the waters.

At first it seems to be a small island or perhaps a ship, upside down breaching the surface and bobbing. But it continues to rise, out of the waves, up into the sky. It is immense - its size hard to grasp. A behemoth that surely, surely could not have fit within even the depths of this great lake. A single baleful, impossible eye stares down at the soldiers beneath that conical hill, in the shadow of that college of magic. A great rounded bulk, water sleeting down its sides, the eye burning with hate and hunger.

The alarm has been sounded just in time, the Imperial strategy defensive and careful, and most of the soldiers are able to react swiftly enough to avoid the two immense arms, tens of feet long, that rise from the water and sweep across the banks of the nameless lake scattering sticky dark venom in their wake.

Three, four, six more shorter arms rip through the air, and this unspeakable horror, this titanic one-eyed marsh octopus, unleashes a roar from its hidden maw that shakes the ground.

There is no hope of fighting this creature - if it is a creature. It is real, certainly, not some kind of glamour. Even the armies of the Mallum give it a wide berth - only the Sept of Masks seem prepared to risk its terrible attention. It cannot leave the lake, thank the paragons. Unlike its tiny kin, it does not seem to have the power to move through the marsh mud. Retreat is the only option - but that does not stop some of the Dawnish taking a stand, egged on by the knights of Summer, striking at its huge muscular arms, launching a surprise attack of their own against the Druj magicians and while most of them die in the process there can be little doubt they die gloriously.

The terrible booming foghorn roar of the god in the lake, the immense octopus from who the hell knows where, continue to echo across the marshes of Kroll… and then it is the Summer Solstice.

Game Information

Sarangrave

There are two separate Imperial forces in the Sarangrave. The southern force made up of the Citadel Guard, Winter Sun, Golden Axe, and Quiet Step, have conquered the Bloodwater Marshes and are perhaps halfway toward taking the Whisperwood and the weirwood grove there. They struggled a little with the Druj miasma that made it harder to claim territory here. They are in serious difficulty due to the invasion of Zenith.

The northern force made up of the Gryphon’s Pride, Eastern Sky, Lions of Adelmar, Northern Eagle, and Granite Pillar, have claimed Turan Flats are just over four-fifths of the way toward taking the region of Kroll. The only significant structure remaining outside their control is the Palace of the Sleepers. They benefited from the Under Threat quality provided by the last Battle Wayhouse in the Barrens, but they also found it a little more difficult to conquer territory due to the presence of the powerful Druj miasma.

The Druj armies are caught between them, and have been ensnared in the Glass Labyrinth. Even if they can break through the Imperial lines they cannot move more than one territory in the coming season.

There were by all accounts two magical forts in Sarangrave - one raised by the Druj in Kroll, the other of unknown provenance in Nesustak Forest. That latter ward appears to have aided neither side in the battle of Sarangrave, and it is very much not clear what was going on with it.

Zenith

A major force of Druj has poured south out of Therunin into Zenith. They have captured the region of Lustri, and destroyed the Stork’s Gaze fortification. They are about a tenth of the way toward claiming the marshes of Proceris. The Druj encountered stiff resistance from the spires of Zenith, thanks to the mandate of the Urizen Assembly.

The Tainted Basilisk are believed to be in Lustri, the magic army able to focus rituals into the territory.

God in the Lake

In response to the Imperial invasion of Kroll, the ghulai of the Sept of Masks have roused something big and horrible in the lake below their college of magic. The soldiers on the ground have not had much time to do anything other than retreat quickly, but it appears to be an immense one-eyed marsh octopus that is almost certainly not an inhabitant of the mortal world. It’s possible that diviners in Anvil may be able to discover more about what exactly it is and what it portends for the conquest of Kroll.

Any character whose military unit supported one of the northern armies may have been at the battle below the Palace of the Sleeper and seen the God in the Lake. It is very, very big - perhaps even as large as a kraken - and it is absolutely terrifying in its size and destructive power. It is a thing that will require armies to defeat, not something that can be slain by even a quite large group of imperial heroes. Fortunately, it seems to be restricted to the lake… but that might not present much comfort to anyone involved in taking the rest of the region.

Participation : Knights of Glory

During the Golden magicians fayre, the Mistress of Pennants offered a boon to certain armies that had joined her soldiers in revelry. Any character whose military unit supported the Eastern Sky, Granite Pillar, or Northern Eagle receives a single Golden Apple that Eleonaris hopes will help encourage the captain to seek an enchantment for themselves or the soldiers under their command.

These armies, along with the Citadel Guard, Golden Axe, and Winter Sun, have also benefitted a little from the inspiration offered by the Knights of Glory - encouraged to pursue heroic and glorious actions in battle, to destroy the rulers of the Druj, and to endure the hardships of all this marsh fighting with a roar of defiance. Characters whose military unit supported one of these armies are encouraged to create stories about fighting alongside these enthusiastic elfin warriors.

Strategic Considerations

Being Cut Off

The breakdown of what's happened in Sarangrave and the adjoining territories creates a unique situation. Four Imperial armies are in south west Sarangrave. The Druj control the regions east and west (Thornfen, and Lustri in Zenith respectively). Bendol to the North is controlled by the Vallorn, the Feverwater is not traversable by armies, and Tsark to the south is not open to the Empire either.

As these four armies have no supply route back to Imperial held territory, they are now In Trouble. If they are not able to draw a line back to Imperial Territory this season, they will begin to decay as if they were out of supply. This is not something which can be alleviated by the Imperial Breadbasket, as indeed those supplies are no more able to get through than support from the home nations.

The Druj risk being caught in a similar situation. There are six Druj armies in Eastern Zenith, controlling Lustri. They control Therunin and Nesustak Forest in Sarangrave, but their only connection to the rest of the Mallum is through the dangerously at-risk region of Kroll. Should the region fall, the armies of Druj would also be in dire straits.

Between Zenith and Sarangrave

If Imperial forces in Sarangrave attack over the border into Zenith and Druj Forces in Zenith attack over the border into Sarangrave during this season, then that combat will be factored into any conflict that takes place in Sarangrave. This will not also apply to any Imperial Forces attacking from the west into Zenith, though taking Lustri from behind the Druj may have a detrimental effect if the Druj attack in that direction.

The Night Option

The Empire has in the past used magic to use Night magic to shroud armies and let them pass undetected. Should such magic be utilised, it would be possible for any such army to ignore the above problems and sneak past the Druj forces in Zenith undetected. The Druj have demonstrated in the past that they are equally capable of taking this kind of action themselves of course.

One of the rituals that might allow escape from Sarangrave is the Host of Shadows which is not in Imperial lore. As discussed in the recent wiki update, however, that ritual has been substantially changed. Anyone who has mastered the ritual will need to check the details. If the player with the ritual text can contact a referee, or email plot@profounddecisions.co.uk, we can arrange to swap the existing text for an updated version.

Battle Opportunity : Pillars of Night

The Imperial prognosticators have identified a major conjunction of the Sentinel Gate to the marshes of Kroll near the Palace of the Sleeper. They believe there may be a possibility here to interfere with the Sept of Masks magic this season.

Battle of Opportunity : Rites of Spring

The Imperial prognosticators have also identified a major conjunction of the Sentinel Gate that seems to lead to northern Proceris in Zenith. They are still examining the situation but believe it may have something to do with Druj intentions towards the Golden Cascade.

Further Reading

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