To ruin

A Fistful of Runes

At first the watchers on the cliffs of Visten believe it is a wave, a wall of water sweeping toward their shores; or perhaps a fogbank roused and motivated by powerful magic. Then the spyglasses of those in the towers reveal that it is neither. It is a forest of masts. An armada of Grendel ships. The alarm is raised, and as the news spreads quickly and the lights of the heliopticon flash their warning, the true scale of what is coming is made clear. All four Grendel navies are here - the Shamal, and the Simoom and the Tempest and the Golden Wind.

They bring the thunder with them; the beating of great drums, drums that keep time for those at the oars of the Asavean warships. The ‘’Leaping Bull’’, sunk during the failed attack on Meade, has been replaced and more than that. Along with ‘’Venger’s Blade’’ and ‘’Wind Tamer’’ and ‘’Balo’s Grace’’ come the ‘’Pilum Asav’’ and the ‘’Deep Fury‘’. Five Asavean battle-ships, each with its own small fleet of auxiliary ships clustering in its wake, bound together by discipline and the beat of the drums. Each of the five would be a force to be reckoned with; together they might be a match for an entire Imperial or Grendel navy. Together with the Grendel armada…

The runes click and clack and fall. Crossroads and swords and road.

They do not come with stealth - so many ships are a roaring stormfront - but they have swung out away from the shore as they arc westward, well out of reach of the defenders on the shore. The folk of Visten make ready for the attack as best they can - sentinels in the harbour, magicians versed in healing and in battle-magic behind - but the armada does not stop. It does not care for Visten, nor for the Ribbon of Salt. And, indeed, the waters around the bay where the spire sits are too shallow for all save the lightest Grendel warships to approach. Even as the soldiers of the Court of the White Fountain - already on alert - rouse themselves the ships are gone, curving around the reaching headlands of Tomari.

As the armada gathers speed there is the faint hope that the Grendel might intend to keep moving, to smash themselves into the teeth of Reumah’s Rest or the Great Chain. Yet there is a certainty, a foreboding, heavy in the hearts of the people of Elos as the harbingers of the heliopticon roar their alarm across Redoubt.

They come scything around Rebekah’s Leap, to the mouth of the lazy Couros, to Elos once more. Last time they attacked the port, they did so almost as an afterthought, on their way from Madruga to the Broken Shore. They were handed an embarrassing defeat by the combined force of the Citadel Guard, the Towerjacks, the Northern Eagle, and the combined garrisons of Cargo and the Court.

This time they seem fired up with a furious, terrible purpose. Everyone here knows what happened in Siroc, when last the Grendel and the Asaveans sailed together. Some folk retreat as the armada rounds the headland; most stay. They will fight to protect their home, to do what it takes to prevent their beautiful spire being rendered into ash.

The runes spin and tumble, and the stars wheel overhead. The wave, the apple tree, the Fang.

Knife in the Dark

The garrisons are on the move as soon as the armada passes Vesten. The sentinels of the Court march east, the defenders of Cargo march south. The heliopticon chatters and winks. The little garrison at Elos readies itself. The seers at the Tower of Light and Shadow search the shrouded sky for any beneficent sign but on these odd nights the constellations are unfamiliar - the true stars seem to hide themselves away, and the Crab, the Looking Glass, and the Bondring offer nothing that can be interpreted.

In the past the Grendel have sometimes assayed diplomacy before their attack, offering a chance to retreat and give them easy pickings. They do not do so this time. Horns blare, hundreds of horns, and the battle begins without preamble.

The green sails of the Tempest lead the way, a spear thrust straight to the heart of Elos’ defences. They allow nothing to distract them as they break through the harbour defences and seize control of several of the lighthouse towers. Behind and beside them come the Golden Winds and the red-sailed Shamal. They too strike straight into Elos - a risky strategy if there were any ships to oppose them but they must know there are not. As soon as they have secured part of the harbour wall, the Golden Winds begin disgorging Grendel warriors into the spire - the Black Eels and the Bone Nautilus and the Hamsin join the attack, three whole armies of the Broken Shore. The blue-sailed Simoon do not attack the docks directly, not at first, but rather assails the ships docked there - Imperial and Axou vessels are mercilessly boarded and looted, taken by the Grendel where time allows. Only those trading ships flying the flags of the Sarcophan Delves are spared - that vaunted neutrality serving as a shield.

The Asavean battle-ships follow behind, and once the Grendel have begun to secure the harbour they disgorge their own sunbronze armoured soldiers, their tridents soon bathed in the blood of Urizen sentinels.

They do their best, those brave defenders of Elos, but the odds are so stacked against them. They can only fall back, and hope against hope that aid is coming, as the Grendel secure more and more of the harbour and the reality - that the spire will fall next - becomes unavoidable.

The runes bounce, spin. The red knife, the black blade, the lion come to rest in a triangle about the crossroads and the road chosen.

Horns on the Hillside

A long journey along the coast has brought the Fist of the Mountains across the River Couros, over the Courspan bridge. Tired from the long march and the cold stares of Sarvos and Necropolis, the scops nonetheless keep spirits high as they come into Redoubt. An old army, the first army of Wintermark. Soldiers from the far north-west, supported by miners and engineers, regularly advised by clever icewalkers and proud scops. The soldiers of the Fist are known for their caution, and for their ability to fight viciously in tight spaces over vertiginous drops. Centuries of fighting in the mountains of Sermersuaq, Skarsind and Hahnmark will no doubt set them in good stead for defending the mountains of Urizen.

That caution and cleverness is augmented these days by the divinations of the farsighted advisors that march with the army. The mystics mark the omens, mark the fall of the runes, and if their advice is heeded the Fist of the Mountains is almost never where the enemy expects it to be - but often in just the right place at just the right time.

The dead follow in their wake, last to cross the bridge under the disapproving gaze of the stewards of Ethan's Respite. In Winter last year, the magicians of Wintermark drew down a host of Winter spirits to fight with the Fist. The dead walked in Tassato and marched with the Fist to battle in Reinos, and in the Quiet Grasses of Madruga. Their presence as the army marched through Sarvos and Necropolis did not go unremarked, of course. Not that all the winter spirits still wear the dead flesh of the League. There are a few orcs of the Lasambrian Hills among them now, still showing the wounds that killed them, crusted with dry blood. The spirits of the Winter realm do not care where the meat comes from, and the death of the husk is no great impediment to them.

To Redoubt come the Fist of the Mountains, and the dead, and the ravens, and the jackdaws, and the hawks fly ahead of them to presage their coming.

The runes clatter like old bones. Both lanterns - light and dark - with the wyrm between them on the mystic’s mat.

They come to Redoubt, where they are not expected to be, into the teeth of the storm. Is this, here, the right place? Is now the right time?

A Hero's Tale

The light of the heliopticon shrieks a warning and despite their long march, the Fist of the Mountains gird themselves and move straight to engage the Grendel and their Asavean allies. Nobody will ever know it for sure but they arrive, their banner-bearers sound the horns of battle, at the exact moment the first Grendel sets foot on the docks. Sometimes the world is simply like that, a mass of secret knots that no mortal will ever see.

Horns blare, and the warriors of Wintermark come to the aid of the people of Urizen. People they have never met, for the most part. Strangers, for whom the heroes of the ‘Mark are prepared to shed blood and lay down their lives if it comes to it. The mystics have read the signs, and the icewalkers have read the winds, and the veterans have read those symbols that are seen only by the eye of those who have known battle and survived. They do not charge pell-mell to the assault; their strategy is considered, careful, but no less resolute and courageous for all that.

The first priority is to protect the people of Elos, to give those who would be overwhelmed a chance to fight or flee. The second is to keep the Grendel from taking the harbour, or the spire, or to make them pay dearly for doing so. To delay them so that the garrisons to the north and the east can reach Naris. So that whatever harm is done here is contained, is ameliorated, if it cannot be prevented.

They are very far from home, and some of the runestones are still in the air, still tumbling toward the mystics mat.

At first the appearance of the Fist of the Mountains seems to set the attackers into disarray. They do not seem to have anticipated any major Imperial forces to be present at all. Yet they rally quickly, adjusting their approach to deal with the unexpected presence of four thousand Winterfolk. It quickly becomes clear that while the Tempest, the Shamal, the Golden Winds, and the Asavean warships are here to conquer, the rest of the Grendel forces are in a much more larcenous frame of mind. They fight, of course, but they are more interested in engaging in maggotry - stealing the wealth of this prosperous port for themselves. This by itself would be enough to ignite the fury of Wintermark, even without the threat to the innocent people of Naris.

Battle rages through the avenues of Elos, between the living and the dead. The Grendel are at a disadvantage because they cannot bring their full force to bear on the Winterfolk in one go - the streets of Urizen are wide but they are not that wide. Instead the cunning people of the north-west employ hit-and-run tactics, having a seemingly uncanny insight that lets them avoid the counterattacks set against them, an uncanny sense for where they can catch the Grendel unawares. An astronomancer might nod sagely and speak of the nature of The Door; but the magicians of Elos have more pressing matters on their minds.

It’s quickly obvious that the Fist of the Mountains cannot stop the Grendel capturing Elos. They can delay, but the conquest appears inevitable. Plans are begun to withdraw, a fighting retreat, taking as many of the Urizen with them as they possibly can.

Elos falls to the Grendel. The Fist of the Mountains retreat.

Now For Wrath

Elos falls, but the battle continues. This is no simple raid; the Grendel are here in force and they are here to conquer. They spread out across the coast, and spire after spire falls before them. They plunder freely, stealing a king’s ransom in crystal mana, dozens of magical items, and anything else with value that they can get their hands on. Yet they also establish encampments, seizing structures to turn to their own ends. Their ambition seems to be to take the whole of Naris… and perhaps more.

Joined at last by the garrisons of Cargo and the Court, the Fist of the Mountains continue to fight them at every turn, to stymie their plans, to slow them and turn them back where they can. They clash with the Black Eels, and the Hamsin, and the Bone Nautilus time and again, buying time for besieged Urizeni spires to escape with their greatest treasures - their books and their scrolls - even as they must leave so much else behind. If the Grendel hoped to seize some of the magical lore of Urizen, those hopes are unrealised.

It is just a matter of time before Naris falls entirely to the armada and the Asaveans. Yet even that does not appear to be the full extent of the Grendel strategy. The farsighted seers and scouts of the Fist of the Mountains have unearthed one more layer of intent, more to this attack than just the desire for conquest and plunder.

The runes are settling now. The scythe, the ship, the storm.

Let This Be The Hour

The Grendel have always been clear about one thing; they will be the uncontested masters of the Bay of Catazar. They will not countenance the Empire raising an Imperial navy. They burnt the shipyard at Atalaya, and the Freeborn Storm, to secure their dominance. Their spymasters must now realise the potential inherent in the Grand Harbour at Elos, that it could quickly become a place where navies were raised, almost on their doorstep. Or perhaps it is just the wealth of Urizen that calls them, like carrion birds. Either way, they do not plan to simply ‘’hold’’ Elos. They plan to remove it as a threat. Permanently.

To that end, they have brought with them a misshapen sphere of tempest jade seized from the Temple of Tempest Jade in distant Raineach. A treasure of High Priestess Shivaarn plundered from her stronghold and brought here to the shores of Redoubt. A thing of the Maelstrom intended to unleash absolute devastation against the harbour and the spire, to absolutely devastate them so that there might be no thought of Urizen or Highguard raising navies here. A show of strength and power. Not a crude burning such as the Asaveans forced in Siroc, but a careful and calculated excisement. The removal of a thorn.

(And if that attack also destroys the Tower of Light and Shadow… well it’s doubtful the spies and agents of the Broken Shore will weep overlong with that particular annoyance dealt with).

The talisman will kill, most likely, a lot of people as well. There is every chance it will destroy not only Elos, but may threaten the mouth of the Couros itself and perhaps even the Necropolis which after all is barely more than a bridge away to the west. Apparently this is a price the Grendel are prepared to pay to send an unequivocal message to the people of the Empire. That ‘’they’’ own the Bay of Catazar, and that ships sail it at ‘’their’’ whim.

It would be easy for the Fist of the Mountains to leave the Grendel to it, to let them destroy the port, to kill those people, to unleash ruinous Spring magic whose full reach cannot be predicted. But these are the heroes of Wintermark and they will not allow such an atrocity to take place. This is the Fist of the Mountains, and while there are dark omens, and dread grows, there is also hope. It will be no easy task, but it will need to be done swiftly if it is to work. There is no time for the heroes of Anvil to pass through the Sentinel Gate - so overwhelming has the Grendel attack been that it must be faced ‘’now’’ or Elos will be lost and who can say for sure what else may be threatened as well. The omens are clear.

The catastrophe sphere is being erected in the plaza at the heart of the harbour, and it is there the heroes of Wintermark must strike if they are to end the Grendel scheme. They mirror, in a way, the Grendel attack. They move hard and fast, driving their blade deep into the heart of the Grendel occupying forces. Their assault takes the southern orcs and their mercenaries by surprise, exploits the fact that so many of them are bent on plunder and keen to ensure that ‘’they’’ not their fellows get first bite of the apple.

They break the perimeter of Grendel-held Redoubt, and they do not stop. They have barely stopped since they left Madruga, and exhaustion must be taking a heavy toll, but they will not, cannot let this horror unfold while they are there to take action. Lives are spent to get as many warriors as possible to the heart of Elos, back into the settlement they had been driven out of. So many lives. The Urizen sentinels support them of course, but it is Wintermark that must pay the price and take the lead, and all the farsight and omens in the wide world can only take one so far.

Vicious fighting ignites again in Elos, but this time it is the Imperial Winterfolk attacking a Grendel-held settlement. More lives paid to get to the heart of the harbour. A cordon of sneering Asavean mercenaries stands between the heroes and their quarry, but they are no match for the blades of the ‘Mark. More specifically, they are no match for the dead, the Winter spirits clad now as often in Grendel husks as in Leaguish ones. They fall on the Asaveans, whose arrogant contempt turns to chaotic terror as they start to feast. The heroes of Wintermark are right behind and more blood spilled, more brave soldiers whose bodies will not find their place in the marshes of the Sovennan fall.

At the last, the Grendel magicians and their Lord themselves fight, to keep the Empire at bay. As the dead feast, as it becomes clear that, impossibly, the Fist of the Mountains cannot be stopped, one of the Grendel tries to bring that ugly, squatting sphere of tempest jade to life. A crackling green glow blossoms within it…

The last few runes land and lie still. The banner. The hound. The eagle. Only one more still tumbles.

… and then a two-handed hammer smashes against the crystal. Once, twice, a third time, cracking, cracking, and then shattering the infernal crystalline eye wide open. An unknown warrior of Wintermark, with a great hammer, and the courage of Inga Tarn herself flowing in their veins, ends the Grendel scheme. Breaks the priceless orb into a thousand pieces. The energy within hurls everyone in the plaza to the ground as it discharges and there is a moment of creaking silence.

Elos still stands. The harbour still stands, the spire. The waters of the Bay continue to surge, the Couros continues to flow, and the clouds that gather are nothing more than clouds. It starts to rain.

The price though… the price that has been paid.

The last rune lands, and the silence falls. The shears.

Like Rain On The Mountain

The Fist of the Mountains have paid that price. Like the first Burning Falcon at Ishal. Like the Hounds of Glory at the Towers of Dusk. Like the Iron Helms and Isaella's Dance under eastern skies. The cost of stopping the Grendel destroying Elos, and risking so much else beside; the cost of ensuring that the libraries of the spires remain unlooted; the cost of slowing the Grendel, of confining them to Naris; of winning Urizen vital breathing space. That cost, that price, has been the Fist of the Mountains. The eldest of the Wintermark armies has fallen. The skein has been cut with the black iron shears that end all things in time.

They cut a swathe through the might of the Grendel with foresight and irrepressible courage. They taught the haughty Asaveans to fear. They seized victory even if it cost them everything else. They will sing songs of the Fist of the Mountains in Kallavesa, and in Hahnmark, and in Sermersuaq.

And everywhere else, as well, if the scops have any say in the matter.

Game Information

The Grendel have launched a major assault against Redoubt along with five Asavean battleships. They took the port at Elos, and then quickly spread to capture the whole of Naris. They are seven-tenths of the way toward claiming Siluri as well.

As the Grendel have captured the Great Harbour at Elos, the Elosian Architect and the Quaymaster of the Hesychian Docks have lost access to their ministries. The fleet owners of Redoubt have also lost the great work benefit provided by the harbour.

They have likewise, seized the Tower of Light and Shadow removing the ability of the Penumbral Watcher to gain further resources. It’s not clear if they have penetrated the tower, but it is no longer in Imperial hands. They are also threatening the Academy of Arms in Siluri, but at the moment the shrine there, dedicated to Adelmar the Lion remains in Imperial hands.

The Fist of the Mountains army has disbanded, due to the overwhelming force brought against it. The brave sacrifice of the heroes of Wintermark has stopped the Grendel from destroying the Great Harbour at Elos, and causing significantly more damage as well. It also ensured that the Grendel would not take Siluri this season as well as Naris; prevented them from looting any significant magical texts; and ensured that the majority of Urizen in the invaded regions were able to flee to safety.

While the Fist of the Mountains have put paid to the Grendel using the stolen boon of Siakha to devastate Elos, they are still in possession of the region where it stands. Without a swift and effective response from the Empire it is eminently possible they will fall back on purely mundane means to achieve their goal - destroying the Great Harbour and with it the Hesychian Docks and perhaps the Tower of Light and Shadow as well. Unless they change strategies (and with the Grendel, nothing is ever guaranteed), these three commissions will be ruined by the start of the Winter Solstice if they are not dealt with.

The Dead

Unfortunately, when they disbanded, the Fist of the Mountains was enchanted with dangerous Winter magic. The ritual had nearly run its course - indeed the general seems to mention in their orders of planning to unleash them in the Sarangrave - but with the destruction of the army the spirits have been freed prematurely.

It is not clear what this means, but there is a thousand-strong force of unliving husks, motivated entirely by the desire to feed on mortal flesh, loose in Naris now. They will certainly remain for at least a season, after which they will ‘’probably’’ retreat back to the Winter realm... but that is by no means a certainty in a place as powerfully magical as Urizen. Indeed, there are still unliving horrors in parts of Zenith from last time the ritual ended in Urizen.

Regardless, they represent an unknown danger. Destroying their bodies is rarely enough to do more than slow them down - the spirit simply finds another corpse to inhabit. And while they most often take a new body from those nearby they can in theory inhabit a cadaver anywhere in the same territory.

Hunger of the Gulls

A significant portion of the Grendel army was engaged in looting and plundering, rather than focusing on taking land or fighting the defenders of Redoubt. They have seized a significant amount of wealth, especially crystal mana and valuables. They have not, however, managed to claim any significant magical works - the Fist of the Mountains has ensured that the spires of south-western Redoubt were able to retreat safely.

It's probable that this vicious raid has had an impact on the Imperial Treasury, however. Redoubt is perhaps the richest of the Urizen territories, and Elos has become one of the wealthiest spires in the territory. Precisely how much impact this will have will need to be seen - the Master of the Imperial Mint will likely be the first to know.

And Finally...

Given the significance of events going on in Redoubt, one final matter almost gets overlooked. During the Summer Solstice, the Imperial Senate approved a requested sabbatical from Eilian Sweetwater, in which he intended to make a study of the Empire's historic lighthouses. The first historic lighthouse he was asked to look at was the fallen lighthouse of Nikophoros... in Redoubt. Sweetwater certainly reached Elos shortly before the Grendel attack, and was known to be looking for a captain prepared to take him and his companions to the rock where the lighthouse once stood. Unfortunately, nobody has any idea what happened to him after that.

It's possible he died during the raid, or is somewhere among those fleeing the Grendel advance. It's possible he has fallen into the hands of the invaders - either the Broken Shore or the Asaveans. It's possible he and his friends are currently sat on a desolate rock in the Bay of Catazar with no way to communicate with anyone that doesn't risk attracting the attention of the invaders. Either way, it is very unlikely he will be providing his report on the lighthouse during the Autumn Equinox.

Battle Opportunities

The prognosticators have identified a major conjunction of the Sentinel Gate that they believe will allow Imperial heroes to travel to Redoubt during the coming summit. They are unable at this time to be certain precisely where it will open, or what opportunities it might present, but they are doing their best to discover the answer. Apparently recent developments with the Lock and the Key constellations are making it tricky to nail down any certainties here.

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