Shovels and spades

Pickaxe and Fen

When people think of the Marches it is the rich farmlands of Upwold and Mitwold they normally imagine. A patchwork of farms, hedges, fences, gates. The earthbound clouds of bleating sheep, the waving golden oceans of grain. The distant sounds of the hurdy-gurdy, of leather and wood, of clay ale-mugs clinking. Yet here is Bregasland, and here Mournwold. Are they not also the Marches? The dour mire, where they grow eels and grudges. The rolling hills and the stubborn grasses with their rich harvests of rare ores and centuries of bitterness.

It is to these latter two, mirrors of each other - one flat marsh and the other undulant like some frozen sea - that we turn our gaze. Mirrors in land, but also mirrors of war. Western warriors bent on conquest; Imperial soldiers striving to liberate their homes.

The Bitter Hills

The Tusks hold to their oath. There are enemies in the Mourn, and until they are dealt with the army will remain. They march under a new general, but they march nonetheless. The bulk of the Jotun forces are engaged elsewhere, but there are still warriors here stubbornly resisting any suggestion of retreat or surrender. Farstrider's Watch is surrounded on all sides by angry Marchers, but the Jotun will not abandon the castle. Perhaps it is their oaths to Jarl Haakon that keep them here. Perhaps they seek glory, and a bridge across the Howling Abyss. Perhaps, just as with Fort Braydon, they seek to purge themselves of the guilt they feel for letting so many thralls die when the Empire ravaged Mournwold with plague and death. Pick one, or all, and you will find a Jotun fighter whose heart it fills. One, a dozen, a score. They fight with the furious joy of those who know they have little left to lose.

The Tusks match them, blow for blow. They treat the grim business of war with the same solemnity and intensity they treat the harvest. When there is a crop to bring in, they swing their scythes and sickles. When there is an army to defeat, they swing their pikes and their swords. Sword and shears both cut alike. Each step forward pushes the Jotun back another step, breaks their hold on the green grasses of the Chalkdowns.

It's hard to see the outcome as anything short of predetermined. With the newly replenished garrison of Landkeeper's Bulwark to hold the ground already taken, the Marches press the Jotun from every side. In Alderly the green walls of Spring magic exert a subtle influence over the hedgerows and the forest groves, over the beasts of the fields. The Prince of a Thousand Foes does little to help the Marcher army, but his servants are there to harass and confuse those who have come as conquerors. He has little patience for the thrall-takers, and infinite patience and compassion for those they would make their property.

One warband of Jotun, hard pressed by the Tusks, make the mistake of retreating into Alderly. They are found the next morning on the edge of the forest. Strangled in a constricting hedge of bramble and bracken, thirty pairs of dead eyes staring at the dawn. All of their weapons are missing. The Thorn of the Ancestors kills when he chooses not to yield. It is, perhaps, a reminder to the Empire that this particular lord of the Spring realm also has claws.

Where the Shacklesmasher offers support at one remove, there are other supernatural forces at work in the Mournwold. The general has invited the Firebrand to observe the fight, and for the heralds of Janon, to watch is to do. Twenty wild warriors, wrapped in scraps of leather and wool, wearing carved wooden mummers' masks depicting the personae as wild beasts, fight with the Marchers. They rarely speak during battle, inspiring by their presence and their wild abandon. If they are disappointed by the careful strategy employed by the Marchers they do not show it. Armed with jagged polearms fashioned in echo of farming tools, they look like scarecrows but fight with the passionate fire only the servants of the Ranting Tumult can deploy.

Between the fighting they share the campfires, moving through the army so that no one of them spends two nights with the same group. They sing, they dance, they tell tall tales, they always have strange liquor and rarer substances. And they urge the warriors of the Marches to embrace their passions, to follow their hearts, to give voice to their dissatisfaction.

Perhaps the presence of Janon's chosen in the Tusks is not an unqualified boon. There are particular grumbles about the fact that the Quartermaster General chose not to allocate shares of the Guerdon to the war to reclaim their homes. This speaks well of those captains who fight with the Tusks regardless, speaks well of their Pride and Loyalty. What would Tom Drake say about a Military Council that holds such a tight grasp on their purse-strings when there is fighting to be done? As they say, you don't own it unless you can defend it. Should the Empire's soldiers not receive just payment for their labour? Is their pay a gift, to be given and withheld at the whim of far-away generals from other nations? It's not a new complaint, but with the Fire-Crow's encouragement it is voiced out loud by more soldiers than one might expect.

Just as well, perhaps, that the heralds of Janon are too busy fighting and stirring the passions of the Tusks to talk to the farmers or the miners of the Mournwold as well, perhaps.

Either way, there are no grand battles, just a hard job that needs doing and is done professionally, without fuss nor muss. More orcs fall than Marchers, but blood is spilled on both sides. War is a thrice-ploughed field, after all. The general has left strict orders not to engage the Jotun at Farstrider's Watch, and as the Summer Solstice approaches the Chalkdowns is Imperial once more. The Jotun are penned in at Farstrider's Watch, but show no sign of abandoning the castle or the Greensward, or the Singing Caves. The work is not done, not yet.

The Rumbling Fens

When the Spring Equinox dawned, the Jotun held almost the entirety of Bregasland. Their sudden, overwhelming attack had expanded their dominion from Graven Rock across the marshes and fens in a single fell swoop. They had reckoned without the Strong Reeds, however, and the stubborn resistance of the Bregas.

Through the Sentinel Gate, the heroes of the Empire interceded against the forces marching north from Sallow along toward Ottery. Under the guidance of the ‘Reeds general herself, that intervention was a victory for the Empire. The Jotun advance was blocked; the pennants of the thieving Corazón were seized; the bounds were beaten and the Strong Reeds inspired, fired up to take the battle to the invaders.

The reward for a good job is more work, of course, and in the wake of that victory, the Strong Reeds begin making preparations, rallying those who oppose the Jotun, laying in supplies, readying to strike back with overwhelming force when the order is finally given. Bregasland will not find them slow to respond when the call goes out.

For their part the Jotun rally, recover from their losses, adjust their plans and sweep into Ottermire without pause. The town falls in less than an hour. The Jotun offer the Choice, and the whole of Bregasland is theirs. Or, at least, the land is theirs. The people are another matter, however. The Corazón have been bested, and the Empire has shown a willingness to fight those who dare to oppress their people. It sends a powerful message to those across the territory; that the Bregas and their Imperial neighbours are tied together by bonds of Loyalty that, while frayed in places, still hold strong. The sullen mood that has simmered in Bregasland since the magistrates "failed" to execute the Droverbills has subsided. If someone tries to claim the Empire doesn't care about the Marches, they'll be given short shrift.

That's not to say that everything is green and fragrant among the Bregas. Copies of the Life of Tom Drake begin to circulate in the conquered land. Even though the Jotun rarely care what their thralls read, hand-written copies are made by rushlight, passed quietly from hand to hand in the back rooms of pubs and stuffed into sacks of animal feed sold at the markets. The part that people are most interested in is that Good Old Tom - who was alright for a ‘Wolder, the one good one - was Loyal to the Marches first and the Empire second. There was no guerdon in Tom's day, but doubtless he'd have had a few choice words for the anyone who said that soldiers fighting for the Marches would get nowt for all their hard work, and they'd not be "polite" words.

Yet there are more pressing concerns than Tom Drake, beloved as he is. The Jotun leave no room for doubt that the Dour Fens are theirs, now. They do not tolerate rebellion or resistance, and those who want to fight are forced to sneak away and join the Strong Reeds among the rushes. Hated traitor Stephen of Sarcombe is sent to Eel's Landing to explain to the Greywaters that they had best mind their manners or they will pay a hard price. Steward Margery, sadly, is nowhere to be found and neither are most of the house. They have disappeared into the marshes with the same practiced ease that made them so useful to the Strong Reeds when the Fishers came to tell the Bregas they were part of her new kingdom. Stephen is apparently furious, but then when is he not? Given his head, he would probably have burned Eel's Landing to the ground - but Queen Yrsa Jansdottir, Jarl of Jarls, general of the Lion of the North, keeps him on a short leash and will not let him exact vengeance against the people of Bregasland unless they take up arms against their new overlords.

For the most part, at least at the moment, the Jotun seem content to rule. Many of their warriors have marched south, but a strong core of half a dozen armies and several champion warbands remain in the marshes. Most of those champions support the Lion of the North, and that represents a problem. While the other armies complete the conquest of Bregasland, Yrsa sets her warriors and champions to scour the marshes looking for any sign of organised resistance, for any sign of the Strong Reeds. A sizable bounty has been placed on the head of the general - but there is an even richer reward for anyone who can capture the leader of the ‘Reeds and deliver her alive into the hands of the Queen of Kallsea.

The Strong Reeds prove harder to root out than a spy network or a ring of Grendel agents, but between the Spring Equinox and the Summer Solstice the Reeds must remain on their toes. Several times a warband or a cell of sympathisers need to be relocated with hours notice to avoid the lions of Queen Yrsa. There are victories as well - vicious fights between Jotun who manage to find some of the Marcher soldiers which leave both sides bloodied. It is a high-stakes game of cat and mouse, but for now the Reeds have the upper hand. As the Summer Solstice nears, the Jotun are in no doubt that the Strong Reeds are present, and that they are organising resistance against the orcs' rule. How much else they know is not clear, but it does not seem they know exactly where the Strong Reeds are - if they did they would have ended them already.

It's clear, though, that the Jotun seem to be planning to stay. Igya Olgafsdottir, Jarl of Tromsa, has apparently been spotted by Strong Reeds scouts visiting the Ice Fishers of Ldansk at the " Burhfæst", the magical fortification at Graven Rock. Imperial prognosticators predict that the magical citadel is due to return to the realm of the King-under-the-mountain by the end of the Summer Solstice at the latest, but the presence of the master engineer and castle-builder in Bregasland may be a cause for alarm.

For now, though, Bregasland is as quiet as a conquered Marcher territory ever is. Yet it is clear to everyone, Marcher and Jotun alike, that this situation will not, cannot, last. The pebbles are already bouncing, the avalanche is inevitable.

Game Information

The Empire has liberated Chalkdowns in Mournwold; only Greensward remains under Jotun control The Jotun have conquered Ottermire in Bregasland; the territory is now completely under their control

The fighting in the Mournwold continues; the Empire has driven the Jotun out of Chalkdowns, but Greensward, including the fort at Farstrider's Watch, the Singing Caves, and Honour's Rest, remain in Jotun hands.

In Bregasland the Jotun have completed their conquest of the territory, which is now entirely in their hands. Only the unique presence of the Strong Reeds is preventing citizens whose personal resource is in Bregasland suffering from the conquered territory penalty.

Participation

Characters whose military unit supported the Tusks or the Strong Reeds may partake of a form of spiritual inspiration Accessing this inspiration requires an anointing of either Loyalty or Pride The inspiration is stronger for Marcher characters but people from other nations still receive a benefit

Military units who supported the Strong Reeds or the Tusks may receive a special benefit The Empire has taken steps on several battles to bolster the Pride and Loyalty of the Marcher armies, and the people of Mournwold and Bregasland. The generals of the Strong Reeds and Tusks have sworn powerful oaths to protect the people of "their" territory. The inspiration these acts provide should not be underestimated.

Any Marcher character whose military unit supported either the Tusks or the Strong Reeds this season may experience that inspiration if it suits their characterisation. As long as they have an anointing of Loyalty or Pride, they receive a bonus hero point during the Summer Solstice. This bonus increases their maximum number of hero points for the duration of the summit.

Any character who is not a Marcher may also receive a benefit but it is less intense. Instead of an increase to their maximum hero points for the summit, they receive a single temporary hero point which is lost once it is used - provided they have an appropriate anointing.