There was a time, many years ago, when the Greenweald Baronies were a realm of great renown. A place to be respected for their faith, their great deeds and their strength of soul. They produced some of the finest craftsfolk in small things, great works of art and from within their shadowed hearts came those people of great courage. Snow would fall lightly on the great cities of Ulsterberg, Wolstad and Hasselbach. The Baronies could be counted upon as some of the greatest leaders of Southern Esterra and the mighty guilds of the Realm were some of the most elite establishments of learning and skill in the lands.
Those times have fallen into history like the collapse of a great oak, rotten to the core to the point where it is hard to imagine how it ever stood.
The modern Weald is a shadow of its former self, one Barony, no great guilds and known for little aside from sickness and its substantial supply of Concordian tax. Wealder heroes attend the Summit, giving their lives like every other realm and while many Wealders can wear their realm’s role in the founding of The Concord as a badge of honour, that seems like greatness achieved so long ago now.
There is a rot in Resinderholz, a boring of hundreds of tiny mouths. But it remains to be seen if it can be healed before this final oak comes thundering down, crushing those healthy trees that reach for the sunlight around it.
I Feel Lost from My Own Way
The guilds of the Baronies were once places of skilled learning, they could be relied upon to address the maladies of the realm with knowledge and proficiency that was essential to the fraught lives of those within the Weald. Close quarters breeds illness, wealth calls enemies and success forges greed. While the great Baronies wove a land of reliance and faith, it was the guilds that armed that land and gave it hope.
But the great defeats of Ritterswald and Verlorenherz, coupled with the plague of Vassertal, broke the guilds. The guilt of those who can help invariably draws the best of us into danger, leaving only their gravestones when all is said and done. Such is the fate of the Guilds, bled of leadership during the greater failures, their doors shuttered or abandoned in the face of more mundane concerns.
As it stands in Resinderholz, three of the five guilds are but legends in the minds of old men. One guild plays a shadow game of existence and perhaps one has found its bones, buried under the floorboards.
The Krow Doktors, those medical experts who turned back the Blasserstreit at the Eisen River with flame and steel are regarded with fear and respect across The Concord. Their masks are the last sight of many Concordian soldiers and their harsh regard is an example for surgeons across the Realms. But at home they are a scattered farce. There has not been a University in Resinderholz for decades, and even then ‘The Schloss Mortis’ in Wolstad was an architects nightmare, barely teaching a single cohort of Doktors before the north wing collapsed and the whole structure fell into mold-clogged ruin, now housing the cities abandoned and homeless. Those who wear the mask of healer in Resinderholz would never admit it, but were it not for Concordian funds and resources, there is no way they would ever be able to turn back a serious outbreak of the Blasserstreit, and there are a half dozen outbreaks of less dramatic diseases that they are forced to ignore through lack of resources. There was a time when the Doktors of the Weald could reach for the forefront of medicine, but even now they can feel what they know collapsing under ill maintenance like that great house on the outskirts of Wolstad.
Huntsmarshalls, once the agents of the Baronies, were always going to struggle adapting to the modern world. With the judicial power of the Barons ceded to Concordian magistrates they began to serve two masters. On the one hand they remain the personal agents of the Barons, protecting their person, investigating their concerns and seeking out spies within the Realm. On the other they are mercenaries of the Concordian Magistrates, seeking out smugglers, murderers and burglars for bounties or perhaps the stable coin as an agent of the watch. Those Huntsmarshalls who can find themselves in the orbit of the Barons find their purpose easily, but others do not. They clog up the hallways of local law houses, bickering over spare bounties like hungry dogs, or clogging up the back rooms of taphouses, drinking away their meagre funds. It is an open secret that crime is rampant in Wolstad, Krezenberg and Eisen, but the Huntsmarshalls are helpless to challenge it without central organisation and truth in their insignia.
The Wealdsages of Resinderholz have experienced a resurgence. The declaration of Barons Schwartz and Voght have once again allowed them to gather, for the first time since the Night of Silver Blood. The Sages have wasted no time in doing so, gathering in small covens to share knowledge. But these gatherings have revealed larger problems. All across Resinderholz the Weald is shifting its weight. The number of unspeakable things that have reached out from the darkness is only increasing, their grasping hands curling around the distant havens. Beyond the darkness there is intelligence and the Sages may have encircled themselves without knowing it. Not since the coven of ‘Unspeakable Truth’ has there been a Sage-Superior in Resinderholz, will it be too late before a new one is instated?
Of the non-priestly Guilds, the only one with hope in hand are those soldiers of iron and intelligence, the Greenweald Ritters. Ever since the Eisen College of War was rebuilt by The Bloody Baroness Saskia in 222, purpose has been found. Every Summer, young people gather at the outer practice fields and hope to prove themselves worthy of entering the College and its long course of training. They are seen all over the town in their black gambesons, lugging training equipment and books in equal measure. The locals know enough about the College’s strict regimen to dress down these young apprentices when their armaments are in poor condition or their presentation is lacking. In winter veteran warriors attend the College, some for a short term of training, others to attempt the full mantle of Ritter. In this, the College has become the heart of Eisen. But even now the Ritters struggle for relevance and reach beyond the township. If by some miracle they can rally the required numbers, Ritter-Kaptain Ostein Valdrieg has volunteered to step down, returning to the life of a hardened mercenary.
In all of this the Guilds struggle. In another Realm this may be less of an issue, but the unique history and culture of the Weald means that these tasks and responsibilities are rarely being taken up by others, and if they are it is at a steep fee. The path to resurgence for these groups is a long one, but perhaps one those with power in Resinderholz will need to take to heart.
Game Information
There will be decisions and information relating to the Guilds of the Greenweald for the Baron of Resinderholz and the Champion of the Baronies.
Excluding Houndspriests (please see the entry below), the following is the status of each Guild in Resinderholz:
- Wealdsages currently do not have a Sanctum.
- Huntsmarshalls currently do not have a Sanctum.
- Krow Doktors currently do not have a Sanctum.
- Ritters currently have a Sanctum (the Eisen College of War) but have not fielded 10 Ritters at Summit.
Should the Ritters field 10 at Summit, the following Summit would prompt the election of a Ritter-Kaptain of the Eisen College of War. Because the Sanctum has been built in Eisen, Ritters across the region are better organised and are attempting to deal with issues that face their charge. However it is largely disorganised. Concordian Ritters are receiving additional information and requests from the College of War and they should expect these to continue this Summit.
As Huntsmarshalls, Krow Doktors and Wealdsages lack a Sanctum, issues facing their areas of responsibility are going unaddressed and may not even come to the awareness of The Concordian heroes unless they become particularly acute.
New Sanctums can be built in one of two ways:
- Occasionally an opportunity may make itself present through the story of The Concord
- The Senate can request an Appraisal of a Sanctum through the power of Appraisal.
I Envy the Houses of Dead Men
The Guild most likely to return to form is that of the Houndspriest, the faithful monster slayers that keep the people of the Baronies safe and their bodies whole from the predators of The Weald. The Krezenberg Abbey, once the headquarters among the ruins of one of General Lavinia Fischer’s campaigns, has been cleared and gifted to Chapter Kristov, providing a Sanctum for the Monster Slayers.
As training resumes and refugee Houndspriests return it seems that a Chapter will resume the role of leadership and training soon. But dogs have been known to bark and bite as they establish a hierarchy, a process the Houndspriests are currently muddling through. Two different Chapters, one old and one new, are competing for relevancy and support of the Baronies Houndspriests.
Chapter Kristov is an old institution, one of the Chapters that predates the collapse of the Baronies. A place of learning and Wisdom, Kristov promotes remembering the harsh lessons of the past, never letting them be forgotten. While training well-rounded Houndspriests, much of their work focuses on knowledge of the Arcane and the strength of faith. Kristov sees its Houndspriests as priests first, saving the souls of the people as much as their bodies. Their name is stamped all over history with many great slayers and cursebreakers owing their training and metal to Kristov. Currently they are led by the ageing Vina Frederov, a once retired Houndspriest of Stallia and Arcadian, returned to see the Chapter back to former glories from under the dust of irrelevance. A stern and laconic woman, Frederov has stated she will step back from leadership if a new Chapter-Kaptain is found, returning to her quiet retirement somewhere in the Sableheart. Chapter Kristov has been unified in its observance of the old ways, particularly in regards to Wealdsages and the Baronial Seat. Bloodstained by the Night of Silver Blood, it appears that Kristov holds no institutional regrets. Wealdsages are dangerous sacrifices that must be done, but should never be accepted. Frederov has also stated that she does not feel that the position of Baron is right for a Houndspriest; “Just as a Hargrave, to take up this mantle is to abandon the cause of others.”
In contrast, Chapter Rakkenbach is everything Kristov is not. A ‘Chapter’ less than two years old, rallied around a veteran Houndspriest on a large farm outside Wolstad. Hans Rakkenbach is a verbose and powerful warrior priest whose Chapter promises to train heroic Houndspriests dedicated to tackling the challenges of the Weald head-on. The camp at the ‘Chapter-Farm’ is a military encampment with sparring fields, obstacle courses, dirt square classrooms and sheltered alchemical laboratories. Where Kristov combines magic and faith, Rakkenbach draws on skill-at-arms and alchemy, augmenting their physical abilities to wrangle the beasts and corruptors of the cursed forests. Hans is a very public figure in all of this, a devotee of Lumos and Anarch, he believes that Houndspriests are positioned to be great leaders of the Weald, their skillset straddling the mystic knowledge of the sage and the dark realities of the Krow Doktor. “Is it surprising that two of the three Concordian Barons have been Houndspriests? No. We are the soul of the Baronies and that is not something we should feel shame about.” The Chapter has also been forward in its stance of bringing Wealdsages into the fold of knowledge and influence. “Why leave one of our greatest weapons at arms reach? We should bind with the Wealdsages and keep them close, for their safety and the safety of all.” Hans has stated that he intends to continue his role in leading the Chapter in some respect, looking forward to working alongside the elected Chapter-Kaptain to guide the organisation that bears his name.
In this current moment, neither Chapter is ratified and recognised. There is certainly a world where both could co-exist, but given the limited resources and limited space in the Krezenberg Abbey, it is unlikely that this will occur any time soon. What is more likely is that the Houndspriests of Resinderholz will have to make a very difficult decision soon, a decision which will affect the future of their order for decades to come.
Game Information
There will be additional information and decisions for Houndspriests and the Baron of Resinderholz in regards to Chapters Rakkenbach and Kristov at this Summit.
Houndspriests have a Sanctum in the form of the Krezenberg Abbey gifted to them by Baron Schwartz and are very close to reaching their minimum numbers for recognition as a guild. However there are two groups vying for recognition as the first Resinderholz Chapter.
Chapter Kristov represents the status quo and experienced ways of the Houndspriest, with a focus on magic, faith and knowledge. It is exemplified by Vina Frederov, harsh but fair, knowledgeable but secretive, cold but effective.
Chapter Rakkenbach represents change and a new strength in the Weald. Its focus on martial skill, alchemy and leadership appeals to young and spry houndspriests eager to be the heroes they want to see in the Weald. Its leader, Hans Rakkenbach is the epitome of this; powerful, direct and making change where he can see it.
If there are ten houndspriests present at the Winter Summit, this will prompt an election of a Chapter-Kaptain at the Summer Summit. This Chapter-Kaptain will become recognised as the leader of that Chapter and will receive information about the status of Houndspriests across Resinderholz and what concerns are particularly present.
The Houndspriests will also have to decide upon which Chapter to recognise. This chapter will become THE chapter of Resinderholz, folding membership of ALL houndspriests under it. Until another chapter appears. Whichever chapter receives ten votes will be the successful one.
In Wickedness I Shelter the Heathen
Trigger warning: Gore / Violence / Self-Harm
His footfalls were too heavy, all he could think of was his quarry in front of him and the constant left-right slip of his right greave, threatening to dislocate his kneecap with one wrong impact of his armoured weight.
The raider was fast, fast as a nightmare. Slipping under boughs and over rotted logs, its green and gold hood tearing under the hungry grasp of reaching thickets. Heinrich knew that the Zek was armed, but also knew that if the foolish heretic stopped for a moment, the armoured ritter would slam through it on the momentum of his armour alone, disregarding his ensorcelled greatsword. He would feel them broken underfoot and around his blade, as was his role.
The Zek slipped down a rocky escarpment into a sodden gully, leaving Heinrich stuttering to a thunderous stop, lest he careen into open space and then a sudden, rock-strewn stop. With the gradual wind-up of a mechanical bull, the Ritter chased the Zek from the gullies' lip. He imagined leaping down upon them, his armoured knee cracking into the sweet spot where neck met back, paralysing them and leaving them at his mercy.
But damn he was too slow, he needed to pick his way through these blasted thickets and avoid collapsing into the gully. He needed to gain pace. With a guttural snarl he threw his sword to the ground. He would rend this interloper with his fucking war-carved hands. Yes. That would do it. He ran on, reaching out and grasping at ruined trees to pull himself further and faster. He was hungry for it.
The gully ended and the Zekartaal began scrambling up a steep hillock, rushing on all fours like a child scrambling stairs. It was a thin thing, waifish and starved, adorned in warpaint and tattoos. Heinrich was less graceful about descending the gully towards the base of the hillock, only succeeding in embedding himself into the muddy hillside like a muscle-meteor. It was no issue. He unlatched his upper and lower cannon and left them in the wet soil. As he began to charge he unlatched the other side, balancing his arms and flexing them, his good wool tunic flexed and threatened to tear its seams under his true weapons, the ones he was born with, the ones he used across the Concord to kill. Kill. kill.
He stormed up the hillock as the Zek disappeared over its lip. He was still too slow, held back by this accursed armour. With a stumble and a bestial roar he ripped the bastard greaves from his body, hurling them into the woods as the buckles shattered under his hands. His brigandine was the last to be torn from his body, sliding down the hill behind him. He continued upwards, the massive leafless spruce coming into view.
The hilltop was dominated by the hollow tree, its form strewn with foul effigies and bloody palmskins. The Zekartaal was there, standing against the tree, one hand upon its trunk, the other clutching a short hatchet as Heinrich came on like the storm.
But he was still too slow, held back like a man in a receding tide. As he bellowed in raw hatred he reached into his mouth and tore, pulling his cheek and lip away in abomination of his form. He must be faster, he must kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill.
With one hand hauling on his lower jaw and the other scrabbling at his ruined face, the Ritter slammed to his knees before the Harbringer. His body gave out under the immense pain that was blessed upon him all at once. For a brief half breath before he could wrench his own mandible free and before the hatchet crowned him a dead man, he felt the sickening wet pain that he had inflicted on his own body.
As the corpse slumped to the ground, the corpse-tree stood unmoving. It cared not, it knew not, it wanted not. It simply was. But as the Zekartaal ran their hand along the trunk in thanks, you could swear that it shivered in pleasure.
Across the north and west of the Ravensreach Wilds, the silent forms of Harbringer Stands, accursed carrionwood trees cursed by the Zekartaal War-Shaman Brother Ash, loom. While they have not shifted over the last six months (the Harbringers appear unmoving in both form and influence) the situation has worsened.
Across the Havens and even Krezenberg, there are reports of Zekartaal scouts moving among the Harbringers, unmoved by their magicks and uncorrupted by their forms. Even worse, attempts to pursue them are inadvertently led into the profane influence of the Stands, each one carrying their own unique horror.
Knowledge of how to defeat the Harbringers is sparse and carefully hidden, but attempts by the Baron of Resinderholz, Valentin Voght to make it public just how dangerous these threats are has thankfully ensured that no great tragedies have transpired in attempts to ‘defeat’ them.
But still they stand, not only threatening the Baronies through their very nature, but also allow a hated enemy a secretive approach that cannot be broken.
Game Information
There will be information and decisions in regards to the Harbringer Stands and the Harbringer’s Nightmare for the Baron of Resinderholz and the Champion of the Baronies.
The Zekartaal’s ability to move through the Harbringer’s Nightmare to attack Resinderholz (should they wish it) makes defending the region very difficult if the Zekartaal were to attack from the north. The War Chamber will be unable to see the intent of Zekartaal forces in Verlorenherz and if they are defeated on the attack, they will take slightly reduced casualties as Concordian forces will be unable to pursue routed forces properly. This does not affect Concordian forces attacking the Zekartaal in Verlorenherz.
All investments in the Ravensreach Wilds will find that they have produced slightly less due to the influence of the Harbringer Stands.
You Can be Too Old to Live, but Not Too Young to Die
The streets of Krezenberg are alive with anger. Once again the outlying Havens and hamlets have been forced into the streets of the township, camps and impromptu hearths once again clutching to every street corner. Beyond the danger of the Harbringer Stands and the Zekartaal, monsters prowl the wilderness around Krezenberg.
Zankertier, Tazelwyms and even a Treant have been drawn towards the settlement, for reasons unknown. They have attacked the distant settlements and spilt blood for their mysterious reasons, leaving carnage in their wake.
In response, the heroes of the Weald have rallied, bringing skill and hard bearing to the northern settlement. Their presence in the township brought hope, all would be well in time.
But they were wrong.
Each time the heroes of the Weald emerge having only barely attained some semblance of victory, and just as often allowing their quarry through. Each victory has been matched by equal failure and the circumstance further fans the embers of anger both from this menagerie of monsters and from the refugees in Krezenberg, who begin to look on the heroes with disdain.
A mob throws stones and torches at the Baronial Manse in the centre of town before being dispersed by Huntsmarshalls. A group of would-be-slayers rallies at the town's only taphouse; ‘The Raven Reached’ before being found shattered against a stoney riverbed by the treant that has been named ‘Hallasend’.
Tensions are rising in Krezenberg and the storm clouds are gathering.
Game Information
There will be game information regarding strife in Krezenberg for the Baron of Resinderholz and the Champion of the Baronies.
A number of sanctioned events have occurred over the Summer season regarding a campaign of monsters near Krezenberg. While successes have been found, they have been balanced by equal defeats and defeats that are felt in a more enduring way. Tensions are rising in Krezenberg from without and within.
A number of investments in Krezenberg have been damaged.
There will be no decisions or opportunities to correct this monster plague at the Summit, that is the story for the teams who have been putting on these wonderful events and we won’t take that away from them. But their impact has been felt across The Weald.