Winter in the Weald is thankfully less devastating than other regions. The heavy forest canopy and stout woods protect the region from harsh winds, storms, and the incredibly rare snowfall. Instead there is a cold in the very essence of the place, as if the freeze was less physical, and more spiritual. Like a soul-deep intake of breath that could go fall either way.
This past winter has been no different, with a multitude of threats arising or continuing the prowl. Amidst the chaos of the Shadowroot War there is still gold to be found, opportunities to push forward, opportunities to endure.
Manacles Forged in Coinfire
For many, the Senate is the arbiter of great improvements to your homeland, as the tax funds that are the lifeblood of The Concord are gripped tightly in their hands. But where there is a will, there is a way, and where there is a way, there is Wealders.
As the Schloss Mortis undergoes construction on the outskirts of Wolstad, the people of the Last Barony look forward to a future where blood is shed in sacrifice, not in suffering. But as the young people who perhaps have not had enough failure in their lives try to explain to their parents that they HAVE to be in the first graduating class out of the Schloss, there is another group going unregarded.
The Huntsmarshalls are the Weald’s quiet dagger, be it held against a distant enemy's throat, at the back of a Wealdling criminal, or held out in defence of the Barony. They know that for all the mysticism and malady of the Baronies, there are still places where the follies and failures of humanity will decide if we live or die. This silent service is often cast as up-jumped constables, power-mad bullies with a desire to hunt human prey. And all of these things are true in part, but they miss the forest for the trees.
It appears that this usefulness has not been lost on Baroness Grasshoff who, through contacts and opportunities, has purchased plans and information regarding possible sites that could serve as a Sanctum for a Huntsmarshall Bureau. With a Bureau in hand, the Huntsmarshall’s Guild would only have to see a constant presence among the Heroes of the Weald. But given the prominence in Huntsmarshalls attending the Summit, this will be an easy feat.
The plans and locations eventually make their way to the Baron’s residence in Krezenberg and assessments of these opportunities begin. The information for each begins to filter out to the heroic delegation, rumours upon rumours.
One rumour points south-west, deep in the Hunters Wood where an abandoned manor may control powerful roads through the area.
Another points to the old home of the Huntsmarshall’s Guild, and what honourable legacy it contains.
The last points South-East, to the most distant reaches of the Weald, somewhere out of sight, and hopefully, out of mind.
Game Information
Following an opportunity and expenditure of funds, the Resinderholz Barony has been offered three possible options for Sanctums for the Huntsmarshall’s Guild in the region. Completion of any of these constructions would require a Senator’s motion and would fulfil the requirement for a sanctum. Details for each commission are below. As a note, the Guild may only have one Sanctum in Resinderholz, so functionally only one of these may be constructed.
The Mortensen Manor
Set on the south side of The Gap, The Mortensen Manor was a private retreat for the Mortensen family and notable for Baroness Lydia Mortensen during her extensive reign from 61AE to 107AE. One of a handful of such establishments for the family across the Barony, it currently lies abandoned. Following the infestation by a powerful insectile beast known as ‘The Chodado Spider’ the site was abandoned and fell into disrepair. When the beast was slain by Houndspriest Hans Rakkenbach in 219AE the location was declared safe and became an abandoned wayhouse for some travellers headed into Lerona Mere or Andash, but no significant works have been undertaken to repair it.
Significant works would be required, but it would create a substantial headquarters for the Huntsmarshall’s Guild complete with quarters, a library, numerous cellars, and a secure outer wall. Importantly, it would also place them on the Barony’s second most important road, while also providing an income in the form of fees charged to travellers passing through.
Cost: 5 Thunder Oak / 5 Mithril / 5 Vaults
Duration of Construction: 1 Season
Location: Mortensen Manor, South of The Gap, Hunter’s Wood
Expected Production: 3 - 5 Locks and between 2 - 6 Random Measures
Special: The Huntsmaster of Resinderholz will receive a handful of rumours from travellers passing through the manor each season relating to goings on within The Concord, particularly in Resinderholz, Lerona Mere, and The Tribelands.
The Wolstad Bureau
Once the constabulary office of Baron Vinzenz Brockenmann, the Wolstad Bureau grew over the decades since its founding in 62AE until the failure and dispersal of the guild between 216AE and 219AE. Over this more than one-hundred and fifty year timeframe the Bureau grew to include four other large buildings and a warehouse, creating a vast complex bigger than the Baron’s Manor within the city. Capable of equipping fifty Huntsmarshalls at a moment’s notice, including laboratories and armouries, and - if rumours are true - capable of holding more than one-hundred prisoners in its basement cells. While the Concordian constitution would hardly approve of confinement as punishment and these cellars would surely need a new purpose, a new Huntsmarshall’s Guild based in the Wolstad Bureau would be well-equipped and centrally placed.
The problem occurs in that the Bureau is perfectly intact, and even well-furnished; with the homes and businesses of more than a dozen groups. While there wouldn’t need to be much construction, if any, the cost to buy the property and re-equip it would be prohibitive.
Cost: 15 Vaults
Location: Wolstad, The Hunter’s Wood
Duration of Construction: 1 Season
Expected Production: None.
Special: The Huntsmaster of Resinderholz, when using their ‘Silent Service’ power will be able to use it as BOTH a Grand Inquest and as a Spy Network action. There will be additional powers granted by this construction that cannot be publicly stated.
Bruukhov Quarry
Amidst the rocky cliffs of the Western Steinvault Mountains, in the shade of the tall pines that twinkle with fae-dust, there is a granite quarry that has been carving and carting off foundations and flagstones for Resinderholz for nearly a hundred years. While never particularly a large endeavour, The Bruukhov Quarry has had more than enough time to carve out a massive scar in the cliffside. Taking this man-made chasm and using its isolation and proximity to Passage to create a private outpost for the Huntsmarshall’s Bureau would hardly be the most dramatic option, but is reasonably cheap and easy to do, ensuring that the Huntsmarshall’s guild is established soon and easily.
Cost: 5 Vaults
Location: Foothills of the Western Steinvault Mountains, Sableheart
Duration of Construction: 2 Seasons
Expected Production: None
Special: None.
A Rot and a Hard Place
Often, in the Weald, one has to make compromises. It is the nature of one’s surrounds - the forest both of and within - to be formed from difficult choices. A more comfortable, spacious house for yourself and your loved ones, but further from the sanctity of Weltschmerz Abbey where one prays each morning. A warm, filling breakfast of cinnamon-spiced rolls shared with friends, but no dessert to sweeten one’s evening. A safe and quiet winter’s night spent by the warmth of the fire, but the knowledge that your beloved cat now resides within the belly of the beast that left you be.
A place of compromise, and of choice, to be sure.
The weight of these choices - of these possibilities - have sat heavy on the minds of those that reside within the Sableheart. Over the recent Seasons they have been beset by Fae and Undead, the two wreaking havoc on Havens indiscriminately. They could have left. They could have abandoned their homes. But most, the ever pragmatic denizens of the Weald as they are, instead chose to hunker down. The people of Resinderholz are not those unused to unkind surroundings, and if the thudding of rotted boots, or the laughter of putrid maws grew too loud, they knew that the Heroes of The Concord would be able to protect them. Hopefully before too many became hurt.
In this, in their resilience in spite of all the malice that surrounded them, they had no choice.
Until they did.
Until guards from a far-off Haven suddenly seemed to come to market with fewer injuries, and more to sell, but a more suspicious set in their shoulders besides. Until children began coming to the same markets with smiles back on their faces, their parents following quietly behind them, bags beneath their shifting eyes. Until, when offered a token known to ward off the undead, made by one of the more knowledgeable Wealdsages, three individuals from the same village shook their heads and raised their hands in attempts at soothing, stating that they didn’t need it. That the undead were being kept away by something else.
One does not need to be a Huntsmarshall, or perhaps more fittingly, a Houndspriest, to determine what was keeping the ghouls and geists at bay. To identify the source of the strange, iridescent scales that shimmer on the ends of the children' s fingertips, or the reason for the amount of Thronesboon and Hartswood being purchased by those who had never expressed an interest in such resources before, especially when alongside iron brooches inset with Essencite.
The Weald is a place full of seemingly impossible choices - one that demands compromise. Thronesboon, woven into bundles, left out on stumps under the sun that filters through the canopy, in exchange for a quiet evening. Hartswood, cut and sharpened into stakes by shaking hands, to be swapped for safe passage from the border with Bordevar to the edges of Wolstad. Essencite and iron brooches, sent with children in the middle of the night, brought back painted with red and green blood alike, with stories of Metzhoffens told through sharper-edged smiles, in exchange for the children returning at all.
Some of the people of The Sableheart, between the undead and the fae, have made their choice for the time-being; a compromise of disconcertion over the deceased, and gifts for the fae over gravemarkers for the ghouls.
Game Information:
Beset by enemies on seemingly all sides, some of the denizens of the Sableheart, particularly those further from the main settlements of Resinderholz, have made the impossible choice of placating the Fae Queen’s forces in exchange for protection from the armies of the Onyx Aristocracy that march upon them. While the Fae Queen’s original threat was to take The Sableheart by force, the invasion from the East has stalled this. The pressure is still being felt by the people within the territory, but to a lesser extent than expected.
Though not all individuals are engaging in such deals, the frequency of these exchanges has been increasing, with some whole havens dedicating parts of their resources to appeasing the Boghoffens in order to receive the ‘boon’ of comparative safety against the undead. Likely a hollow promise if the overall defence of The Sableheart cannot be maintained.
Whilst a somewhat tenable arrangement for the meantime, there is no guarantee that such actions will not have consequences beyond the transparent trade occurring, if they have not already.
Enterprises and investments in the Sableheart will be given choices regarding their willingness to appease the Fae Queen.
Say Your Prayers, It’s Already There
There are monsters whose names are chanted in stories to keep children from wandering too far into the night. And then there are monsters whose names are withheld, spoken only in locked barns or firelit chapels, behind doors bound in red twine and iron nails. The Hirschkind is of the latter sort.
The old records place it as a territorial predator, an antlered terror of manlingheight, wearing the form of a man and a deer twisted together in sorrow and sin. It hunts with a bow strung not from cord but curse, and its arrows do not simply kill, they remember. It has always wanted something. Coin. Trinkets. Innocents. It does not stalk aimlessly. It hunts because it expects payment.
And for many years, that payment was made. A constellation of Havens on the edges of the Sableheart and in the deep green hollows of Ravensreach made the Old Bargain: hidden caches of coin, blessed idols left on stones, a child taken from the cradle beneath a waning moon. Such horror was tolerated, in part because it worked. Decades passed without incident in some places. Generations even. Some thought the creature slain. Others whispered that it had simply been satisfied.
But the world has changed. The Shadowroot War sparks into life. Corpses fill the roads. Fae agents stir in places too near. And whatever pact once placated the Hirschkind has failed, with its nest disturbed and its prized possessions stolen.
Now, the beast is awake.
It has been sighted striding across the Baron’s Road, its hooves cracking winter’s morning frost. In the Eisen Orchard, even the great Thunderoaks weep with sap the colour of old blood. Ritter patrols report comrades vanishing with only a single arrow-pierced corpse left behind, always the best-armed among them, always the ones who looked too proud. The battlefield dead of the Shadowroot War now share their fields with newer graves, freshly made. The Houndspriests, those divine curse-breakers charged with confronting such threats, are stretched thin, their efforts already pulled toward the Fae Queen, the Harbinger’s Nightmare, and the Predator of the Gap.
There are whispers that it may still be bargained with. That some village, desperate, tried to bury its last gold beneath a blighted tree. That others gathered their sickly children and offered prayers in the Hirschkind’s name. That somewhere in the fog-wracked vales, a voice like splintered wood is whispering terms.
But such matters are better left to Wealdsages.
The blood-stained tracks remain. The heads of warriors in their prime are hung from old waystones. And in the shadows between birch and yew, you may catch the sound of something cruel, breathing slow and deep.
It hunts.
Down the road where no one goes,
Through Eisen’s wood where cold wind blows,
Walks the deer with hunter’s eyes,
Drawing death from darkened skies.
Gold and bone it used to take,
Now a child for village sake.
But coins have rusted, blood grown thin,
Now it wants to hunt again.
Bolt your doors and bar your gate,
Do not question, do not wait.
If you hear the whistling air
Say your prayers, it’s already there.
Game Information
Following a murderous debacle at the start of the year another monster has joined the rogues gallery currently haunting Resinderholz. Known as ‘The Hirschkind’ it is an intelligent, greedy, and vindictive hunter that seeks out armoured warriors and kills them with a magical bow, before feeding on the corpses.
At any other time this would be a moderate concern, worthy of a cohort of houndspriests, but with the chaotic warzone that is Eastern Sableheart where the beast resides, there is a lot more than one problem afoot.
Sableheart has gained the following trait:
| Trait | +Cas. Inf. | +Cas. Suff. | Special |
| The Hirschkind Hunts | - | 5% | Bordevarian or Greenweald armies that leave this territory suffer 100 casualties. If the army remains in the territory and fights, it only suffers +5% casualties as listed here.
Only affects Greenweald armies and Bordevarian Armies. |
There will be decisions and opportunities regarding The Hirschkind for the Chapter Kaptain of Chapter Kristov, the Sage-Superior of the Broken Vale, and the Baron of Resinderholz.
I Wait, Hungrier and Hungrier
“Have you ever seen symptoms like this?”
The Doktor shook their head, their crows mask seeming to weigh heavier with each passing day. With news of yet another undead invasion and Blasserstreit risk, it was proving a hard lot to be a surgeon.
“They seem similar to signs of amnesia brought on by significant trauma, but there seems to be more to this. There is no physical harm, nor mental, nor magical. This person just simply… Appeared? Lost and confused.”
The other Wealder present, young and eager to impress, cocked their head to the side. Clearly pondering, but perhaps a tad too theatrically for the tired Doktor. “Well, they were found wandering out near The Hunter’s Wood, muttering to themselves over and over. The muttering has stopped, but I wonder if the words had any meaning?”
“Hmmm.” The Doktor crossed their arms, tapping their left index finger against their right arm. “This may not be a medical case. Our home amongst the trees is one made amongst malady and curse. I am no Wealdsage, but perhaps it calls for the expertise of one. We shall see.” The Doktor cocked their head to the side, a sly mimicry of the young Wealder. “Before we seek one out, why don’t you see if you can get the patient to repeat these murmurings?”
“I shall try, Doktor.” The youngling knelt beside the dishevelled figure, sat rocking back and forth on the cot they had been placed not long prior. A gentle hand was placed on the figure’s knee, meant to be a comforting gesture. The rocking stopped immediately. “Can you hear us? What is your name?”
The figure, covered in dirt and mud and utterly unidentifiable, raised their head and stared directly at the youngling. Their mouth moved, but if any words were said they were quieter than a whisper.
“I am sorry, I did not catch that. Who are you? Do you know where you are?”
The Doktor’s tapping on their arm increased in pace, a sign not of urgency or frustration, but of anxiety. “You are safe now, in a place of medical wellbeing in Krezenberg. If you can, you may speak to us.”
The figure turned their head towards the Doktor now, and broken words began to sound from their still moving mouth. “Waiting. Challenge. Gap. Hunt. Waiting. Gap. Hunt. Challenge. Hunt. Hunt. Waiting.” Starting as a whisper, the words would grow louder and louder, the last to come would be nearly a shout. “HUNGRY!”
The Doktor’s tapping stopped suddenly as a panting Civil Service Official entered the room, clearly having run. They were not polite with the immediacy and panic of their words.
“This person is a fucking Pathfinder!”
Game Information
A Pathfinder with severe amnesia had been found wandering The Hunter’s Wood, their goal and task entirely unknown to those that found them. Still, based on the Pathfinder’s mutterings and words, there remain a few who could piece together what it all meant.
There will be a Minor Conflux for Wealdsages at the coming Summit. The responsible party will be The Sage Superior, who will receive more information at the Summit itself. This will include the number of Wealdsages required, Conflux time, and Conflux details. Having said this, it can be expected that the Conflux will have Low Accessibility, High Danger, and High Intensity.
A Grand Search For A Lowly Find
To look into The Weald and imagine it as a home for criminals, seems strange and untrue. Why would there be simple crime in a place so inhospitable to those that would eke out their living within it? The simple answer, as unfortunate as it would be, is that there is no answer at all. Crime simply happens. It has existed within The Greenweald Baronies for as long as there has been a Baronies.
A stale truth. One that does not bode well to any with a moral compass. But one that is true nonetheless.
During the last Season, a Grand Inquest into Wolstad saw Huntsmarshalls gather to expunge warring criminal elements from their home. They were, categorically, successful in their task. Gangs and their gangers, both foreign and local, were rounded up or chased away by the coin of The Senate and the votes of its Senators. A simple thing, but one that left more to be desired. Scant few answers were gathered, and exactly no leaders were found.
Perhaps this is why The Senate, under the Motion of Baroness Wealdsage Grasshoff, sought to put a Grand Inquest once more into Wolstad. Its goal was simple, to reveal the ringleaders of ‘The New Butchers of Wolstad’ and the possible Lerona Mere Capo that was rumoured to be stepping toes into Resinderholz.
This goal, aspiring as it was, would see absolutely no true result to its question over the Winter Season.
So far as Magistrates could tell, the ringleaders of The New Butchers had fled the city during the last Inquest, their whereabouts unknown. Possibly hiding out within Krezenberg, Eisen, or any number of Havens that they may call home. Resinderholz was a large place, and the Inquest was focused towards Wolstad, its resources assigned with the city in mind, not the Region as a whole. A few independent Huntsmarshalls found themselves frustrated by this, and set off to hunt down these ringleaders on their own, but they have not been heard from since.
The Lerona Mere Capo, on the other hand, turned out to be a far simpler reasoning. It was just that they had already been caught and executed during the previous Inquest, unable to escape and simply seeming no less competent than their lowly gangsters. A rather unbecoming end for a supposed criminal mastermind, but then, no Wealder had ever claimed to call them that in the first place.
Despite the lack of results, Civil Service Officials in Wolstad would not waste the resources sent their way. It may not have been for the purpose assigned, but nonetheless it would not escape the broader focus; crime. Magistrates and other Officials within the city would assign remaining resources into anything and everything that remained and could be classed as ‘criminal’. Such a decision would prove to have been made wisely, as a few discoveries came to light.
Of note were two Artebazzani citizens, well hidden and so far evading the eye of the law in its effort to expel their ‘kind’ from The Concord’s territories. They were found, trialled and subsequently exiled, allowed to carry with them what they could but the rest of their worldly belongings being reclaimed by the state. In addition to the small monetary boon that such exiles would bring, the Inquest also turned up a variety of smuggling deposits, rooms, buildings and hidden areas that were used to store stolen or otherwise criminal goods. Ridding Wolstad of these would prove another financial boon, but more importantly it would create an air of safety and wellbeing among the populace that walked the path of law.
Those that walked a darker path may believe otherwise, but should any have remained in Wolstad they were rather quiet about these thoughts.
With the Summit fast approaching, all that remained was concern for the missing Huntsmarshalls, and a fear that no matter how hard a community could try, parts of it would always fall to misdeed. What caused such a choice? Was there a way it could be prevented? Is it simply the way of the world, or the will of The Spheres? Is there a balance that could be wrought from the confines of morality?
Who could say.
Game Information
The Grand Inquest into Wolstad failed to turn up the ringleaders of The New Butchers of Wolstad, and by extension, also failed to turn up the Lerona Mere Capo that was assumed to be present. The latter was found to have been executed the Season prior, while the former was still at large in the wider Resinderholz area.
But the Inquest was not for naught. With the remaining resources put to use in a more general sense, more harmless criminal elements of Wolstad were discovered and reclaimed. In addition, two well hidden Artebazzani Citizens were uncovered, trialled, and promptly exiled. Between the exiled and the reclaimed goods and coin, the Grand Inquest was able to generate an amount of 2 Vaults.
While this is largely considered a success, it remains equally true that the ringleaders of The New Butchers of Wolstad are still at large within Resinderholz. Huntsmarshalls have gone missing while looking for them. As such, a greater call for a Manhunt has been raised throughout the Region, however lacking a Huntsmarshall Bureau, such a thing will have to be organised through other channels.
The Senator of Resinderholz can expect to receive opportunities or decisions to be made based on this.