The first steps into Mancante Terra were cautious ones.
Bordevarian boots, heavy with the weight of knightly valour and armour, were quick to become the spearhead of the military campaign. The First Banner, not unfamiliar with travelling far from home for the benefit of The Concord, marched into Mancante Terra with flags and pennants held high. They would see their duty done, their orders fulfilled, and attempt to gain a foothold for seasons to come. Such is their way, no matter the consequence.
But they would not do so alone.
While more often aboard their vessels on the seas than marching on foot, the Fleet of The People’s Gift would leave the docks of Lerona Mere to once again bring the fight to a dreaded foe. Sailors and marines would flow between each other like currents in the ocean, each taking to their tasks with an eagerness borne of boldness. There was an energy in the air, a palpable excitement from the children of The Revolution, one that would make them work harder than ever before to do what needs to be done in the fighting of Mancante Terra.
Yet they would not be moving against a foe that is known.
These lands had been held by Illsevir for many years, but that has since changed. It is no longer the speechless foe of the past that holds sway, united in singular purpose, but instead now controlled by a strange new might. Silence gives way to discordant moans and desperate screams, while viciousness and violence remains. The Drowned hold Mancante Terra, and they will see those who enter their shores dragged beneath the waves.
I Did Not Wish to See You Drown, Yet I Could Not Help Myself
To plan a campaign of war requires time, resources and a place in which to do so effectively. Much deliberation was had between the Captains of The People’s Gift and the Knights of The First Banner on where would be best to hold these meetings, desiring somewhere close to the field of battle, yet somewhat accessible by sea. Nowhere near to Mancante Terra could possibly fit this requirement, and so their eyes were cast inwards, towards the very territory they meant to claim.
The now quiet city of Loricazzo was the clear choice. Resting on the south-eastern bank of Lake Isabella and The Fiorenza, one of the widest rivers in Southern Esterra, and one large enough to allow the travel of small ships. Loricazzo was not a small place, larger than Mivara and Gafroza combined, but it had faded under the brunt of the Illsevir invasion and now lies empty of life.
But now, after such wanting for so long, the chance had come. The Captains of the People’s Gift humbly requested that The First Banner simply wait their turn, leaving the claiming of Loricazzo to a people that had desperately desired it. No disagreement was made, but simply unexpected encouragement and prayers of success. And so, those ships small enough to traverse the river were sent along it, packed with marines itching to take to shore and bring revolution to a place gone for too long.
The first Lerona Mere boots to land upon the dilapidated wooden piers of Loricazzo were met with silence. No cheers from a people now rescued - all had known they suffered their terrible fates years ago. Only the sounds of wind, water, and creaking wood were there to greet those that believe themselves saviour, but they would not be dissuaded.
Hundreds of marines debarked and flooded into the city, moving in small crews of five or so, weapons in hand and eyes watching for danger. Knowing that the city would be far too large to fully reclaim in one day, the standing order was to begin in the docks and residential districts. Swift nods and gripped weapons would see this done within a simple few hours, taking no toll on life but instead filling the marines with a deeply unsettling feeling.
No Illsevir had made themselves known, but their presence of old was certainly clear. Those first marines travelling through the docks would see the most broken parts of Loricazzo, a district of reaching heights supported by wood rather than stone. The wooden piers themselves held somewhat strong, but the various market stalls were more like soaked kindling waiting to be dried and burnt than remnants of merchants past.
Moving away from the waters, the district began to grow taller, with buildings built upon buildings. Warehouses were both above and below small shops and large taverns, once catering to those many travellers who would need to use The Fiorenza. It seemed almost as if the great docks of Lerona Mere had been squashed together, forced to grow up rather than out, and forced to do so with wooden braces rather than stone. While surely once a great piece of architectural work, now it was in disrepair, some buildings fully destroyed and collapsed by the cruel passage of time.
Of greater concern than the wear upon the buildings, however, were the claw marks, deeply carved into the wood and found in too many places to name.
Looking much the same as the docks though far less collapsed, the residential district would see houses built upon houses. At its tallest, it seemed to rise to five stories, some taller elements joined by bridges to allow travel across the city with more ease and less climbing. There would not be just one simple street, but levels of them at varying heights, creating a near warren-like place that must have once housed thousands upon thousands.
This would prove more difficult to move through than first thought, but the people of Lerona Mere were nothing if not tenacious. Each home would be cleared by day's end, sped along by the lack of a single enemy to stop them. Instead, the marines would be confronted by scenes that would not leave them for as long as they live. Meals untouched and rotten, clearly left in a rush. Doors, broken down and pools of blood just within, yet no bodies to be found. In one particularly grim building, perhaps once an orphanage, claw marks could be seen in and around a room of cots.
It was clear that the people of Loricazzo had been taken by the Illsevir of old, and nothing remained but the story their lives once told. The city was once again returned within the hold of Lerona Mere, but it would not come without a cost.
Game Information
A foothold is established in the abandoned city of Loricazzo by the marines of The People’s Gift. This foothold would eventually become the core of the coming campaign into Mancante Terra, allowing for the forces of The Concord to rest and regroup between scouting excursions and battles.
Loricazzo would be taken at little to no cost over the course of two weeks, however the story it would tell of an invasion long-past would be a significant blow to the marines that reclaimed it. There is no telling what became of the great many people that had once lived there, but the lives they had left behind would create an unsettling air over the whole city that could be felt by anyone who entered it.
Some hushed rumours would even spread that Loricazzo, ‘The City of Lonely Shadows’, was in fact cursed by the foul Illsevir of many years past in some malign way. For now however, it represented the beginning of a great war into Mancante Terra, and could be considered nothing but a success for the forces moving through it.
Waves Break Like the People Before Them - The Battle of Lake Porios
“Time to earn your Valours! Slow advance!”
From the woods marched a line of warriors, soldiers and Knights that could only be defined as intimidating. Shields of all shapes, brightly coloured with symbols displayed proudly, banners and pennants flying high across each section of the line. The thundering sound of thousands of heavy boots would be met by a silent stirring of the Illsevir around Lake Porios, a readying of steel in mindless unison. There would be no charge from either side, no sudden tactic nor change of pace, just an eventual and inevitable brutality.
The First Banner proved to be no strangers to war, and held steady and strong beneath the pressure of such a cautious attack. The Illsevir, part of The Shark’s army by all accounts, would swing their blades with a might granted only through mindlessness, crushing armour and breaking shields in the thick of the melee. Yet the Bordevarians would not falter, relying heavily on those High Warmages and Surgeons to pull them from the jaws of death should they fall.
Slowly but surely, the battle would continue. A near-endless refrain, a cycle of blood and death only possible in the most pitched of battles. The Illsevir, outnumbered and with their backs to Lake Porios, would ever-so-slowly be pushed into its waters, but they would still not break. After two hours of gruelling warfare, the commanders of The First Banner called their forces back for a temporary retreat and rest, carefully watching for a response by the Illsevir that remained.
But among the seven hundred that still stood, knee deep or deeper within the waters of Porios, none took to chase. The air did not clear, for the battle was not done, but the short time to rest and recover would not be wasted. Perhaps it was this moment, or these series of moments, that would become the catalyst for a change that none could have prepared for.
No snap could be heard, no audible crack nor break, but something in the air had shifted. Something had changed. The Illsevir, silent so far despite their numbers, began to groan and mutter. Many looked south, seeing for the first time with eyes not their own. Some clutched at their heads, clawing at something they had never owned. And slowly, but surely, they each began to scream.
The First Banner watched in horror as these discordant screams echoed through the land around them, no rhyme or rhythm to their suffering. This desperate screaming did not stop for a great many minutes, the throats of the Illsevir certainly damaged by such cries. Yet the silence granted was short, a temporary reprieve replaced by something far more sinister.
Slowly but surely, one by one, the Illsevir began to chant in unison.
Their lines shifted, but never left the water. Their words incoherent and strange, foreign and cultic. Known words eked through, made all the more worrying for the recognition.
“From the depths we came. From the depths we shall return. Once we were Drowned, and we shall be Drowned once more”
—---------
They never left the water. Throwing themselves against The Concord like tempestuous waves against a stalwart cliffside; their watery hands desperate to erode that which reaches for the skies. The First Banner fought again at the waters of Lake Porios, but it was not Illsevir they fought any longer.
The Drowned came, taking the bodies of what were once Illsevir, and they fought to keep what they had claimed.
The mindless strength of hours-past was replaced by a mighty chorus of careful intent. The Drowned would prove themselves a different foe, their ranks changing effortlessly, led by the marionette strings of some power far from here. The Banner would push them further into the waters, yet The Drowned would simply chant ever so louder with each step deeper.
The Battle of Lake Porios was, after so many hours, to be a victory for The First Banner. Despite this, the burden it would place on those that witnessed the forming of The Drowned first hand would not so easily disappear.
Game Information
The First Banner moved in force from the city of Loricazzo, choosing to fight along the west within La Bene Legna. The army went south while taking care of any Illsevir threat that stumbled into their path, cutting them down with ease. This march would eventually come to a head in a pitched battle against one thousand of The Shark’s forces on the edge of Lake Porios, The Banner attacking cautiously and carefully in order to save as many from falling as possible.
Yet the battle would prove to be a turning point, one unforeseen and with no clear reason. The Illsevir, once mindless and silent, began to chant and sing as one choir, their ranks reforming and their very selves altering. The First Banner watched first-hand as The Drowned claimed their power, heritage and the very bodies of the Illsevir that once were.
The Battle of Lake Porios, despite great difficulty and concern, is won by The First Banner of Bordevar. This victory allows The Concord to take up to The Esterran Circle on the Western side of Mancante Terra, though any attempts to push further fail against the defensive forces of The Drowned.
Hold Your Breath Beneath These Turbulent Waters - The Battle of Korrence
Anchored off the shores of Mancante Terra, the bosun watched with a smile as the crew cheered. The ship’s orphan, a youngster aboard each ship of the Lerona Mere Fleet who gets taught the ways of the sea, just downed their first rum ration. It was a strange tradition with a stranger name, but it had a good effect on the crew and the kid themselves. Something like a squire of the sea, for those who want to feel noble about it.
The People’s Gift treated their orphans well, each ship truly taking to the mentor role with a well-meaning heart. You make sure you care for your orphan as well as you care for your ship, and all go home happy. Maybe the Captains of years-past liked the idea of mascots and it simply grew from there, but who is to say. The bosun shook his head, leaning comfortably back against the main mast and moving his thoughts to more current events.
The whole fleet had orders to moor near Korrence, with a plan to send the marines and any willing to fight to go and take the town. Things had been difficult over the last months, with various shore offensives up between here and Loricazzo, but news of the victory at Lake Porios filled the crews with excitement. Soon it would be our turn, it was thought, to claim a big victory in Mancante Terra.
News of The Drowned, a new threat truly unlike the one it had replaced, was kept well in hand. There would be no foolish bravado that ignored clear danger, and in truth, some of the skirmishes in recent days had been made that bit harder by such a strange shift in the enemy. The crews were not on edge - it would be impossible with how things had been going so far - but the Captains had ensured no carelessness would be cause for downfall.
Even now, the bosun sighed as he prepared himself for the watch ahead. Lanterns were lit as the sun began to drop behind the horizon, and a careful eye was needed to ensure no enemy snuck their way to the ships on some small boat. This far from shore it would be quite difficult for an enemy to travel unnoticed, but it has certainly happened before and the fleet was under orders to make sure it doesn’t happen again.
Soon, the bosun thought, we will have our feet in Korrence. Soon. He cast his eye over the rails towards the now darkening waters of The Bay of Promised Gold, watching for a moment lost in thought. He had been thinking a lot recently, he realised, chuckling lightly to himself. His eyes drifted towards another ship in the fleet, their lanterns now lit and fighting away the coming dark.
Strange, he thought, that their hull looked so covered in such large barnacles. Did they not only recently chip them away?
—---------
The moon, hidden as it was behind dark and unseen clouds, would shine no light on the fleet of The People’s Gift. The flickering of lanterns and a scant few uncovered torches would be enough for the veteran crews - this was not their first night at sea after all. The ships would be abuzz with activity well into the evening, a mix of those on night watch and those wishing to celebrate recent victories. The night itself would not stay quiet either, the wind blowing and the sea rocking the ships as it is want to do.
Despite the caution of the Captains and their crew, none could have foreseen the events of the coming hours.
The first shouts of danger would come from the ship furthest from Korrence, anchored as far out as could be considered safe within the fleet. A ship designed for speed, a messenger in all intents and purposes by the name of The Flight, smaller in scale and far closer to the water. The nearby crews could do nothing but watch as the light aboard the unfortunate ship was snuffed by the unforgiving waters upon which it once rode, sinking beneath them within but a scant few minutes.
Shouts from the next ship, far larger, rang out across the night. Calls to raise the anchor were quickly spread, the Captains of each vessel wasting no time in preparation despite the confusion. The heavy chains of anchors were hauled up by experienced sailors while marines grabbed weapons with the speed of veterans. The fleet would not wait quietly for an answer that had not yet revealed itself, choosing the path of action in the meantime.
They would not need to wait long.
As the anchors were returned to their resting spots within their wooden homes, they would bring with them unwanted visitors. The chorus of The Drowned began again as their lungs emptied of water and filled with air, their barely-human forms grasping steel in one hand and anchor in the other. This was no quiet ambush, but a declaration of might by an inhuman foe that claims these waters as their own.
Marines would find themselves fighting aboard the decks and within the bowels of their own ships, blades swinging with indignant fury. The Drowned, covered in the debris of the ocean floor from which they had clearly come, would climb and clamber aboard each ship in dozens. Cold hands would grasp wooden railings, caring little from where they must climb so long as they could. Warm hands would grasp what weapons they could, caring little where the enemy clambered from so long as they could cut them down.
Hours would pass to the sound of lethal combat, eventually broken by the cheers of victory and the rising of the morning sun. Despite their best efforts, and the loss of only a single ship by The People’s Gift, The Drowned would not succeed in bringing down the Lerona Mere fleet. This victory, emboldening the children of revolution, would keep the crews awake and the Captains ready to finally make a move towards Korrence.
With a cry of war, sails would be raised and the town of Korrence would soon fly the banners of Lerona Mere.
Game Information
The fleet of The People’s Gift spent the season of war sailing down the coast of Mancante Terra, taking to the shores at regular intervals to war with the Illsevir and eventually The Drowned. Fighting was fierce, but skirmishes were small in scale and the skill of Lerona Mere marines was once again proven in blood. The furthest reach of the fleet would be the coastal town of Korrence, once a thriving stop-over for the pilgrims of Mancante Terra of old.
The People’s Gift, taking an opportunity to rest before their final shore offensive into Korrence, dropped anchor a good while out from the shore. There was cheer felt by all of the crew, but at no point was carelessness permitted by the wise and veteran Captains of the fleet. This would prove to be a saving grace, as The Drowned sought to sink the fleet from below the waters.
A single ship was lost, pulled beneath the waves by the chain of their own anchor, all at the hands of an inhuman foe. The Drowned made the waters their own, and faced no peril in staying beneath the waves for extended periods of time, hiding their true strength within the depths. Yet the quick thinking and speedy action of The People’s Gift would see them through such a strange start to a fight.
The fighting would be brutal, but victory would be torn from the grasp of the enemy and taken by The People’s Gift. Using the momentum of adrenaline, the fleet would sail immediately for Korrence and expel the remaining Drowned from within it, claiming it for The Concord within the day.
A Future Built Upon Rickety Timber is Better Than No Future at All
The season of war had seen two fists of The Concord thrown in unison across the land of Mancante Terra. Each would show their strength and military might, working to take as much land as they could in one of the largest regions in Southern Esterra. While the fighting would take its toll, especially while beginning to learn the strange nuances of The Drowned, the cautious orders of the Banneret and the Admiral would see loss of life kept to a minimum.
For now, The Concord has managed to create the foothold it had desired, pushing back The Drowned and their new reformed armies. Spanning as far as The Esterran Circle all the way to Korrence, not to mention all the land before it, Mancante Terra would begin to feel the weight of Concordian control. While many secrets hide within this held territory, a few places of note are well known.
Loricazzo, a city abandoned and rumoured as cursed, sits along Lake Isabella and The Fiorenza River. It is a very large city, once known for its great populace and warren-like architecture, once home to those who planned to begin the pilgrimage south towards the far away forbidden temple city of Mandrianos. Now, Loricazzo sits empty save for the desperate stories of its lost citizens and a new name. The City of Lonely Shadows surely hides more secrets, but there are rare few who would wish to settle there until The Concord can further solidify control of Mancante Terra.
In the west, a wide swathe of La Bene Legna covers the heels of La Lungo Elsa. Abandoned hunting lodges and farmsteads are common, a lure to those who seek a simple life within a quiet forest. Despite all expectations, La Bene Legna holds no secrets that make themselves known, nor any places of true importance. For once, it seems, the lands of Southern Esterra contain a place of simple normality.
At the edges of Concordian hold lies Lake Porios, the site of a large and recent battle against The Drowned, and perhaps more importantly, sits The Esterran Circle. A religious site for the people of Mancante Terra, once known as The Bay Folk, forgotten amidst history and time. A parallel civilisation of people not too dissimilar from The Valley and The Bailites, though little else is truly known about them. The Esterran Circle itself is a set of particularly massive chalk-white standing stones, pure Arcstone formations that seem natural rather than placed by man. Regular standing stones are placed around it, though their designs and meaning remains unclear to the few people that have visited it.
In the east, travelling south along the coast, there are dozens of what once could have been small fishing villages. Those that called them home are long since gone, but remnants of their lives remain despite the harsh winds of the sea. As one travels further south they would eventually find themselves in Korrence, a small trading and port town that now resembles more of a shipyard and barracks. The foremost town along the border of Concordian control, there is a strong military presence in Korrence that has overwhelmed any history or secret that may be hiding within, though surely these shall come to light one day.
The Concord cannot help but look out, beyond its control, to the rest of Mancante Terra. There is a want, a desire, to take more. To gain and gain, creating one's own reward for challenges real or otherwise. One may look towards La Bevanda Dei, knowing it is but a short stop before the true reward of Mandrianos. Perhaps the most ambitious would be looking even further, waiting for the chance to step foot into Cologna Mia and Fiari, eager to reveal what they hide within.
But there yet stands an enemy that will not allow these rewards to be so easily gained. A lethal foe that has evolved, grown from what it once was and bolstered by a new strength. The Drowned, the occultic choir, look ever to keep the land held beneath their sway.
Will The Concord be able to take it from them?
Game Information
The Concord holds roughly one-third of Mancante Terra after the Winter Season of war. There are numerous locations of interest within, though it is clear that whatever population once thrived in these lands are no longer present, likely fled or taken south for some malign purpose many years ago.
Throughout this season, it has become clear that The Drowned do not fight as the Illsevir used to, now singing and chanting together in an unsettling choir of voices. There is some power that controls them, perhaps some remnant of the old hive mind, but it has not yet been made clear to The Concord what form it takes. Regardless, the war continues and conflict is common.
Despite this, The Concord has managed to learn, with great difficulty, that The Drowned seem to have a more nuanced internal culture than the Illsevir of old. Where before it was The Concord themselves who named the armies of the Illsevir, as much as a mindless foe must be named, now The Drowned have chosen names of their own.
Three armies are known to be within the military might of The Drowned. The Reaching Tide holds Mancante Terra against The Concord, a force made of the remnants of The Shark’s army now reforged. The Grasping Current holds Calandri, bolstered by foul and strange beasts. And finally, The Fathomless Depth dwells within the fortress city of Vidania in Barbariano, perhaps the expanding capital of this newly formed threat, their purpose and more simply unknown due to their distance.
No spoils of war were gained in the fighting of Mancante Terra, however the foothold that was sought has been created. Time will tell how The Concord at large will utilise the chance they have created for themselves.