Say what you will about the Bordevarians, they are strong, forthright and deeply dedicated to their last remaining piece of a once great Kingdom. Once the most surprising members of The Concord, Bordevarian steel has become the backbone of the War Chamber with its armies and heroes well regarded wherever they tread for their martial power if not their social deftness.
As 225 wanes, matters appear to be turning in Bordevar’s favour. No grand invasion of the undead is seen on the horizon, as so often has been the case. Their foes in the mountains remain dead in the ground, or missing upon the wing. Rather the challenges facing the Kingless Kingdom appear to rot from within. Strange illnesses, wayward fae, and prowling ghouls all present challenges in their own right. At the same time the Kingdom attempts to find a future path not beset by enemies or replete with compromises to their nature.
Playing With Matches and Hoping for Flame
Stoke the embers of our souls, let them blaze. In fire and fury we will not suffer again.
These were the words that embodied the sentiment that Sheriff Darcy and Duke Sigismund spread across the Duchy of Starscar. Through the Noble families and Houses, the common soldiers and townsfolk, and even the Border Forts themselves; the path forward for Starscar was to be set as one that would not yield. It would not break. It was to be one that would be screamed from the gut in defiance of the false. It was to be one that would see a glint of fire in the eyes of a people faced with the devastation of war and loss.
Yet, the embers were yet to be truly stoked into a great blaze.
It would be the Nobles of Bordevar to first start truly walking the ‘Path of Ember’, in its infancy as it is. It was Lady Salinas of House Asther who would adorn her banners with a simple flame. Embroidered in oranges, reds and greys, the flames would sit in the corners, surrounding the symbols of her House and of Bordevar but not overpowering them in colour, size, or shape. Such small things, such a tiny step, but one all the more impactful for its existence.
“We have wars to win and inheritance to claim. That fire and drive will be what Starscar requires to press forwards.”
These are the words written to Lady Salinas by Duke Sigismund, and these are the words shared across the Nobility of Starscar in turn. Perhaps it was Salinas’ own spark that furthered the cause of Ember in the eyes of these other Nobles, or perhaps it was the words of the Duke, but nonetheless symbols of flame and fire began to appear on more than just banners. Household Knights would begin to adorn their shields and tabards with the same small flames, pennants and flags filling their empty corners with burning colours; these icons of ember nothing but supporting figures on fields of greater meaning. But present they were, and a reminder they would become.
The commonfolk would not be so subtle, nor would they find a need to be. Tristian Fisher of the Arbington Town Council would simply post a notice to a board in the middle of town, Sheriff Darcy’s simple words posted with it. A Prior of Arcadian, their name lost in their cause, would be the first to truly take it upon themselves to ignite the courage of Arbington, ensuring the whole town would know about it. It was, after all, hard to ignore the sight of pyre lit in the streets.
At first, the Prior was deemed as raving mad, ranting too loudly and too often about some Path that did not matter. It was only when they returned with a ghoul in chains, its limbs lopped off and its mouth stuffed with tinder, that people began to pay attention. The ghoul, deemed “A sacrifice to the great Path that we must walk, less we lose it all again”, would be the final piece to the great pillar of flame that seemed to almost lose control within that square in Arbington. To this day, no one could remember the name of that Prior, for it was lost in the cheering and yelling that followed the death of that one pitiful undead.
Like a spark carried by a hot wind, the people of Starscar would become engulfed in flame from that moment forward. This was the way forward. This was the way to demand victory. This was the burning shield that would protect Bordevar from the unholy foe before it. This was the Path that saw Starscar lose nothing again without ensuring that the enemy would burn for trying.
It had begun. Its effects wild and uncontrolled, just as the flames that scorched the Lenscaster Hills had been. Starscar was united, common and noble, and it was ready to light the pure flame of the soul to see its enemy burn. Only one question remained.
What do we do now?
Game Information
The unanimous decisions of the Duke and Sheriff of Starscar would see the Paths of Ash or Ember firmly pushed toward the latter. While this choice was left to the decisions of two, their combined front was more than enough to convince the people of Starscar to begin pushing their own people to follow. Given the passion that infuses the chosen Path of Ember, this was not difficult to achieve.
Starscar has begun to change, its people enraptured by the words that their Path directs them to feel. Every Character who resides within Starscar or closely associates with it will feel this effect begin to manifest in many ways. As the Path of Ember continues to evolve, so too will the way it manifests.
Nobles, Knights and Commoners are all encouraged to include flame iconography alongside any of their own symbols (House, Warband or Personal). These flames should be smaller, supporting images rather than the greater focus. Players are heavily encouraged to add these or similar thematic stylisations to their costumes however they see fit.
Any Character located within Starscar is heavily encouraged to adopt the following roleplay prompt, as per last Season; “Stoke the embers of our souls, let them blaze. In fire and fury we will not suffer again.”
There will be decisions for the Duke of Starscar and Sheriff of Arbington regarding the future direction of the Path of Embers. These decisions will greatly affect the Duchy and its people.
Screaming Birds Sound Like Singing
The group of Bordevarian Knights, joined by warriors of The Weald, were well-prepared for their season of fae slaying; their minds were sharp, ready, and their blades sharper still as they journeyed together into the Northern Duchy.
As they observed the landscape, they noted how beautiful it was in the simplicity it held compared to the townships; rolling hills of green and gold, fringed with berry bushes on the border of each field, and dotted with homesteads. If they hadn’t been given detailed instructions by the Duke of Heartsgrave on where to go and what to look for in order to defeat the fate that had been plaguing the region, it could have been easy to be held by the illusion of this pastoral scene - that all was calm and well within the duchy.
But as they journeyed, the details became clearer and clearer: blackberries on the border between two farms, painted with blood in the shape of a grinning visage; stooks of wheat and barley drying out in the sun, freckled with mould, originating from a rat with its innards torn asunder, carefully placed atop them. When they reached the holdings there was desecration aplenty in the form of sheep sliced to ribbons, and the flayed flesh of cattle left in wagons of apples to spoil and rot.
Once the signs had been found, it was not difficult for them to track the purulent creatures wreaking such havoc - these were, after all, Knights of Bordevar, accompanied by a Huntsmarshall and another still retaining his skills, if not his title. A few measly fae would make for easy pickings.
However, when they were finally found, putrid and pestilent, they were not what was expected - many had heard of the wild laughter and discord of the Boghoffens, of their chartreuse flesh writhing with joy, revelling in the destruction they wrought. But when the fae attacked, silently slinking into the stable in the early hours of the winter morning, there was no bright and noxious exuberance in their actions - just the slow, methodical movement of creatures not wishing to be seen, clad in shades of shadow.
When they were approached by Knights of the realm, they did not jibe and jape and jump, slicing their blades into cattle or Concordians indiscriminately. Instead, these ‘fae’ approached without words, their black hoods still high on their heads, wielding their weapons with determination. They did not relish this combat, but it was necessary to fight back, for they certainly could not outrun the Heroes.
Unfortunately for them, Knights of Bordevar had grown used to cutting down the undead of the Onyx Aristocracy. After the first, it did not take long for the group to find the other clusters of undead masquerading as fae, eliminating them before they could sow more fear into the hearts of those in Everguarde. A reasonably simple mission had been made even simpler by the nature of undead - though dangerous, they were far less predictable than the creatures of The Weald that had been promised.
Though none could pretend to understand how the Onyx Aristocracy had made it so far into Bordevarian territory, nor could any offer specifics of why they would be impersonating faeries to terrorise the populace rather than outright kill them, they were glad for it to be finished with. They were glad that the people they swore to protect would have peace of mind, now that it was all over.
And yet, the unease remained when the Heroes of The Concord returned to Carningsfield to report that the problem had been dealt with. Even as their Senator and Champion personally assured them that they no longer had anything to fear from these ‘fae,’ there was a polite clapping, and stilted statements of thanks. But no revelry. No exclamations of relief.
Instead, while mouths were covered and whispers were felt, the eyes of those in Carningsfield tracked the three Greenwealders at the back of the Knights of Bordevar.
Some of the people of the Northern Duchy whispered that they had seen this scene enough times before; courageous Knights in shining armour, stabbed in the back by those bearing blades and patches of bird skulls and coins, to know that this was not right.
Some murmured that they knew it would not be correct for them, as Commonfolk, to be stood as equal to the Knights arrayed before them, raising their brows at the figures in black, grey, and red doing the same.
Some, quickly hushed by those around them, questioned why the Knights had even been brought if they could not prove their valour as Bordevarians alone - if they were even worthy of their position as protectors of the realm.
And almost all, as they went to sleep that night, safe from fae and undead thanks to the work of Concordian Heroes, did so with a chip forming on their shoulder, one way or another.
Game Information:
The Ducal Mandate put forward by Duke Koré Vespera, of House Vespera & House Bremmer, Holder of the Mandate of Everguarde, and Duke of Heartsgrave to hunt the fae in Everguarde was a success, the Knights of Bordevar and their Greenweald company successfully slaying the Onyx Aristocracy agents masquerading as fae.
However, for some of the people of Everguarde, though this is a clear relief, there remains a sense of unease regarding the Heroes sent to save their home and hearts from peril. There has long since been tension between Bordevar and Greenweald, and the decision to send denizens of The Weald as equals to Knights has seen some small strife.
There will be decisions for various Bordevarian titleholders regarding this budding issue, and the questions regarding the intentions of the Onyx’s actions.
As the Last of the Bugs Leave Their Home
The locals of Lake Ladure and the border of the Wolfden Woods, at first, were not concerned when the dead insects began to appear. Such a thing was to be expected, given the cold snaps that they had been having, and the creatures only seemed to flutter about listlessly in recent weeks as it was.
The corpses of the moths washed up on the sandy banks, flecking the surface of the shorelike white petals at the start of winter, or ash after a volcanic eruption, and drifted in on chilling winds from the woods to scatter across the fields.
Then came the villagers, Knights and billmongers and commoners alike, thought to have been dead after being missing for months. They stumbled, dazed and confused as if sleepwalking, out from the Wolfden Woods in clumps, with hair and clothes coated with a fine dusting of insectile scales. Their families were overjoyed to have them returned, safe and sound, and entirely unharmed; a possibility thought lost.
When asked where they had been, what had happened, why they hadn’t returned home, their voices descended back into dreams, floating listlessly as they murmured of a home now lost - a home now taken from her. They were brought back to their typical selves the next morning, after a full night’s sleep, but still no clarity could be garnered from them. Following days of attempting to ask, and seeking the help of surgeons and mages alike to elucidate what could have occurred, most of them gave up, preferring to have their family back rather than send them back to the unknown, trapped within unreachable memories.
But still, dead moths and amnesiatic villagers, whilst disconcerting, were not a signal of the end times. No one was hurt.
Until the songs began to echo from the trees; songs of a victorious token, sung in raucous, rankorous voices. Songs of the victory of the Fae Queen, and the growth of her Kingdom with the upcoming death of her would-be usurper. Songs sung by green, insectile predators of the forest, naming the Wolfden Woods as their new hunting ground.
Game Information:
Based on multiple actions undertaken at the previous Summit, the power of the individual known as Lady Ginevra, or the Moth, has deteriorated rapidly - the effects of this have been felt across the Duchy of Everguarde, with the insectile population of the region wilting, and villagers thought missing or dead returning to their domiciles.
In response to this, and given further actions undertaken at the previous Summit, the Fae Queen has begun to spread her claim on the forests of the East, beginning actions to claim the Wolfden Woods her own in the absence of Lady Ginevra.
There will be decisions to be made regarding these exchanges of power by a number of characters, some with titles, and some without.
There will be a conflux on Day 1 of Summit for players in the middle of this exchange.
Thank the Spheres for Blades, Beer, and Bordevarians
While the declaration that Royal Bordevar will be reclaimed within 4 years (a timeline very swiftly approaching only two years remaining) once sounded out loud in the corridors of power, its reach begins to ring hollow across Weiland. Senator Louisoix’s declaration was a surprise to many, but the commonfolk of Bordevar took up the cause as their own. Thrice there have been opportunities for Bordevarian heroes to take the field against the Onyx in Draemoor and thrice they have seen some modicum of victory, it at a cost. But it appears that when matters require more than metal in the moment, such strength is found wanting.
Last season the Bordevarian heroes took to the field to strike out towards Bloodmarsh township. With blood and bravery they took and held an old stockade, slaying many foes, and while they were not successful in holding the fortress for as long as hoped, it was long enough. The actions of Bordevarian heroes had drawn the undead away from other fronts, enabling Rangers to scout out paths for larger groups of mercenaries and soldiers to not only seek out enemy leaders (including the hated traitors of House Avalon) but also raid into the enemy rear. All of this borne on the backs of the Bordevarian commonfolk who believed it when a noble stood in the Concordian senate and declared that the retreat was over. That Royal Bordevar would once again be theirs.
But when winter came, the soldiers were missing. No mercenaries came, no undead headhunters could be found. Perhaps the other warfronts were of greater import. Perhaps there was a failure in leadership and the order was never given. Perhaps Concordian heroes felt they had done enough. As with many such things, it will be another answer lost to time and angry tavern floor arguments.
Instead of dwelling, or raging against civil infrastructure, or declaring secession, these Bordevarian’s pick themselves up, dust themselves off, and get to work crushing the undead underfoot.
The many disparate groups that heard the then-senators words have roughly confederated under a single banner; The Barrow Hounds. Led by a crude council of Billmonger sargents and a handful of Hedgeknights, they wander from farmstead to township in Starscar and Weiland recruiting cast offs and would-be-heroes to keep up the good fight, even if they go it alone. Based in the shadows of Peregrine’s Roost, one of the more northerly Starscar Borderforts, the Barrow Hounds have organised even more strikes into Draemoor this coming season.
Despite the lack of action over this last season, Barrow Hound skirmishing parties have found that they have been able to travel far into the lost duchy, some even getting within sight of Bloodmarsh itself. These peasant-warriors hungry for battle have failed to find much melee, but have at least been able to escort Concordian pathfinders up to the front, opening the opportunity for continued assaults this coming Summit.
While there are toasts raised to the Barrow Hounds in taverns from Arbington to Weiland, there is growing concern. These attacks into Draemoor are well and good, but they are undirected, undisciplined, and unruly. Without some sort of serious plan or vote of support from the heroic delegation it is likely it will come to very little save for good Bordevarian dead lying in bad blood. Noble landholders across the region worry that what few youngfolk the realm has are being caught up in reckless heroism when really the Realm needs them to stay home, help with the harvest, and build a life worth defending.
As the Spring Summit approaches it remains unclear how the heroes of Bordevar will play into this performance of valor. Are the Barrow Hounds and their common-fervour the true heart of Bordevarian valour? Or is discretion the better part? Are we playing into Onyx hands? Or are we doing what we must to reclaim a past shallow-buried?
Game Information
Following a partial success during a conflux last Summit, no investments undertook the ‘Scout Draemoor’ or ‘Raid Draemoor’ downtime actions. The opportunity to strike out and capitalise on the weaknesses created by that Conflux have passed. Thankfully, it appears there have been no great dangers or maladies created by this misstep. Although it is likely that the Onyx undead have breathed a sigh of relief, if that’s something they are capable of doing.
The vague commonfolk-lead coordination to strike into Draemoor in particular has coalesced into ‘The Barrow Hounds’. The group is recruiting workers and militia members across Starscar and Heartsgrave to bolster its numbers.
The Barrow Hounds will be looking for support at this coming Summit, a charity box will be entrusted to the Sheriff of Arbington to take donations on behalf of the Barrow Hounds. Any donations of coin, resources, and well wishes can be placed within the charity box. Significant support will see the Barrow Hounds well supplied, conflux options remaining available, and even the opportunity of reclaiming Draemoor without requiring an army in the coming Summits.
So far this support has materialised in a Conflux for thirty Bordevarians at this Summit, despite a lack of support in the past season. The Conflux will be on Day 2 and the responsible party is the Champion of the King. Details will be made available to them at the Summit.
There will be decisions regarding the Barrow Hounds and the continued sorties into Royal Bordevar for the Ducal Council and the Nobles of Bordevar.
The Kingdom About To Be
From the northern eaves of Everguarde’s forests to the western mountains of Heartsgrave and the scorched warfront of Starscar, Weiland is scarcely recognizable compared to five years past. Weiland township is no longer a sleepy farming settlement swollen with refugees. The land is no longer a bucolic backwater, remembered only for retirement keeps of nobles weary of the capital. What once seemed an agricultural hinterland has become the breadbasket of an empire.
Weiland today is a city in all but name, standing alongside Wolstad, Obregon, and Brakkenloh as one of the Concord’s great capitals. Heartsgrave beats as the spiritual and social heart of new Bordevar, home to more than half the population and much of its memory. Even without a King in its manor, the people lack no spirit.
Arbington now stands shoulder to shoulder with Eisen, Strivington, and the lost Nazafeza, rugged cities of war and endurance. Once overlooked and forgettable, it has become a bloodied, ash-daubed frontline in the Bordevarian struggle. Starscar has burned, broken, and brawled for survival, and it will not let that sacrifice go unseen.
And then, there is Everguarde.
Northernmost of the duchies, final coin in the hand of the Wise Council, Everguarde is still the land of fae shadows and fickle magicks. It remains verdant, storied, and seemingly untouched—a kingdom of tale and legend rather than hard reality. It is also the only duchy still directly ruled by the Wise Council. After their blunders last Summer, their purse of social capital runs thin. It is difficult to sell austerity and resistance while standing in the shadow of Everguarde’s martial pride and lingering promise of a crown.
And so, the Wise Council has blinked.
That small cabal of five, tasked with ruling in the King’s stead while safeguarding the realm and seeking an heir, has called for a great council of nobles. Countess Igerne of Lakeshore, the Stone-Crone herself, departs for Passage to preside. All nobles of standing have been commanded to attend. The Council’s intentions remain hidden, their cards close to the chest. But Everguarde, and Bordevar as a whole, now stands at a precipice. No more waiting, no more drifting. The time for decisions has come.
Game Information
Councillor Igerne of Lakeshore makes her way to Passage and has called a Council of Nobles of the Realm to pass judgement. While the matter of Everguarde remains foremost in everyone’s minds, rumour has it that there will be far more decisions to be made than just Everguarde. Nobles and members of the Ducal council should examine their opinions on the following matters to be well prepared:
- The future of the war with the Onyx Aristocracy and how it shall be fought
- The naming of a new Monarch and the path to that end.
- Bordevar’s stance against or with the Fealties of Drummond
- Bordevar’s position within The Concord and the longevity of such a position
- Bordevar’s ambitions beyond its borders
- The legacy of Artourious Bordevar
Igerne will be arriving on the second afternoon of the Summit along with her bodyguard, the respected Ser Haytham the Claw. She will meet with the Ducal Council and discuss matters with them initially, after which the Noble Council of the Realm will be called. Any noble of Bordevar present may sit within the Council and may vote. As the representative of the crown, Igerne will preside over the proceedings, but has also reached out to the Civil Service for assistance in this matter.
While the decisions being made at both councils will be of great importance, the Councillor will require assistance in assembling such a meeting. There will be work, payment, and regard for those who can assist such actions and letters will be sent to the Sheriffs of Arbington and Weiland towards such ends. Commonfolk interested in ensuring the propriety, prominence, and protection of this council meeting, or simply interested in a paycheck, would do well to reach out to these titleholders once letters begin to arrive.
When the Harvest Turns to Ash
The black wind has passed over Thricefield. No footsteps echo in its lanes, no lamplight warms the windows. The air no longer shimmers with fever, but the smell lingers — damp rot, sickbed sweat, and the sweet burn of ash. The last Keepers of the Sheriff of Weiland departed two weeks ago, leaving only scorched frames and the long shadow of the granary.
Their work was harsh but necessary. The dead, left where they fell when the plague broke the town, still whispered danger in the heat of early summer. A third of Thricefield’s buildings were burned, not only the corpse-piles, but the great silos that had once brought in grain from leagues around. The flames crackled for two nights, their smoke rolling eastward like a slow funeral march. What remains is empty and still, save for the carrion birds that haunt the silent roofs. By decree of the Duke of Heartsgrave, the land returns not to House Hallowmere, who so squandered this verdant gift, but to the Wise Council. In practice, that means it returns to the fields, empty homes and blackened husks, shunned by squatters for fear that some creeping rot might condemn new inhabitants to the fate of the old. For now, Thricefield lies abandoned, a short walk off Modwyn’s Way, in the shadow of its empty manor.
The Keepers’ duty was not only fire. They came as investigators too, fanning out across Heartsgrave in search of answers. How did Blasserstreit strike so far from the Weald? Was it mere fate, or a hand that carried the rot here? Quiet arrests followed; a miller here, a labourer there, merchants taken from Everguarde to Starscar. Some were held for weeks, others for hours. None were charged. Their quarry slipped away like an eel, leaving only ripples in its wake.
Yet there is something here, something insidious. Over long stares and short drinks in taverns across Heartsgrave, the Keepers can smell it: a conspiracy hiding beneath the flow of grain shipments and harvest tallies. Something all too human, yet dangerous in a way that is not. Their reports will go only to the Sheriff of Weiland, but their work has not gone unnoticed.
Now, as the Spring Summit approaches, a rumour seeps through the cracks in the investigation. It whispers that Thricefield fell not by chance, but by poison. Perhaps the ground was fouled, perhaps the grain was cursed, but whatever the truth, panic begins to ripple outward from Heartsgrave.
Thricefield grain was poisoned. And more of Weiland’s grain might suffer the same fate, if it has not already.
In Lerona Mere, merchant combines scramble to cancel orders of wheat and barley from the East. In Resinderholz, local Hargreaves halt shipments on the edge of Havens and turn them back. In Obregon, the wealthy demand that Magi from the School of Gifts test their bread before each meal. Weiland is the breadbasket for much of The Concord, and the fear that it may be corrupted is now felt across all of southern Esterra.
Game Information
Investigations into the Blasserstreit outbreak in the small hamlet of Thricefield earlier in the year have revealed rumours and the shape of a conspiracy. Information is limited and held close to the chest as it stands, with there being important decisions regarding this for the Sheriff of Weiland and the Duke of Heartsgrave. Importantly, there have been no further outbreaks in Heartsgrave related to Thricefield, or independent of it.
More immediate concern is a rising panic across The Concord that Weiland grain may carry ‘That Weald Pox’. While this not only causes undue panic (the rumours are just that, rumours that are entirely unsubstantiated) they have also damaged the economy of Weiland as its people come out of the winter and prepare for planting season. Farm investments across Weiland will find they produce far less this season as they struggle to find any buyers for their produce of any kind except for the most desperate locals.
There will be additional information and decisions for Farmers in Weiland regarding this panic, as well as for the Ducal Council.
Not Much of a Way we’re Getting Through Here
“Well I don’t much like the look of that.”
In the scheme of things, that went without saying. The two knights watched as the shambling corpses struggled to haul the burgundy pavillion together, as if drunkards were trying to raise a barn. Ser Baldwin cast a sidelong glance at Ser Amelia to see if his companion had much to comment. She wasn’t much of the joking type, it was hard to be a Ser Amelia in these times.
She gestured with a furrowed brow at the ranks of undead three deep and fifty wide in the gully between the Knights and the pavilion.
“Not much of a way we’re getting through there.” She grumbled and Baldwin nodded grimly. Amelia turned to him.
“Report it?” She questioned.
“Report it.” He admitted.
-
“Well I don’t much like the look of that.”
The foundation stone sloughed out of its slot in the basement wall and fell to the ground. When it collided into the flagstones it didn’t crack or shatter, but crumbled apart like warmed stale cheese, wriggling maggots curling and dying where they met fresh air. Thomas Halter looked across at Castellan-Countess Violet and shrugged, he had no answers.
He wrapped his billhook against the stones either side of the soily, foul smelling gap the rotting stone had left, they rang with reassuring firmness.
“Not much of a way we’re getting through there.” He offered, as if it were some sort of consolation. The knight glared at him and rubbed the bridge of her nose.
“Report it?” He ventured with a tone that made it sound like the chances of him getting struck were reasonably high.
“Report it.” She responded with all the energy of a late afternoon sigh.
-
“Well I don’t much like the look of that.”
Finding a skeletal hand miles from any graveyard wasn’t nearly as rare as it should have been in Weiland. But outside of Starscar and some very unlucky parts of Heartsgrave it was still thankfully an oddity. But four days' walk from the frontline and a stones throw from Carningsfield and Lake Ladure was a different matter entirely. Wrapping his hand in a neckerchief Hobbs attempted to pick up the hand and found that it wasn’t detached, merely exposed, the rest of the desiccated corpse a part of the baked clay beside the road. The quarryworker kneeled down beside the proffered handshake and sighed, rubbing at the soil in the mid-morning heat.
“Not much of a way we’re getting through there.” He remarked to the hand which slowly slumped back down, Hobbs’ feeble attempt at its freedom fleeing its bones. He chuckled lightly and considered his options. He was late to his shift already, but this wasn’t nothing. But given enough time surely someone else would find it?
“Report it?” He asked no one in particular, perhaps to the hand, which this time had no comically timed slump to answer.
“Report it.” He grumbled and turned back the way he came.
Game Information
Despite the lack of warfare on Weiland borders this season, the machinations of the undead have not gone unfelt. There is a malice in silence and the Onyx Aristocracy are certainly conniving enough to make use of it.
A regal pavilion has been assembled just over the border near The Stand, but the strange setup remains unused and empty, save for an out-of-place honour guard. Concordian Pathfinders attached to the Stand have readied themselves to call upon Concordian heroes to investigate the structure, but information remains slim on the ground.
An undeniably magical curse dubbed ‘Foundations to Rot’ has damaged the Starscar Borderforts, dealing 1000 damage to the fortification. The effect is unknown to The Concord and it remains to be seen if there are any other foul effects.
Two desiccated, once animated corpses have been discovered near Carningsfield. Each of them are nearly completely buried and the manner of their arrival and demise remains unclear. Details have been given to the Sheriff of Weiland and the deed holder of the Lake Ladure Quarry.