The northern front. The river of blood. The Shadowroot War. The Hordling Hell.
Soldiers call fighting in the Sableheart a lot of different things, and over time many armies take their stance along the line; few more often than the First Banner of Bordevar, but few are more welcome than the Legion of the Blackheart Bear. This past season saw both forces rally in and around the city of Eisen to spend another season of uncomfortable heat, the stench of death, and the grime of mud and blood as they fought back the undead once more.
Danakka Rimortis, the Wraith of Port Gargant, the Alchemist of Brumhaven, brought forth ten thousand shambling corpses, corruptive alchemists, and the threat of plague. The Hirschkind, a powerful Weald-beast, seeks out armoured Ritters and Knights for its brutal revenge, The Fae Queen musters her armies of tricksy murderous allies, and every drop of blood threatens doom by disease.
The summer sun through the leaves shines only on death. Welcome to the Shadowroot War.
Stand in the Ashes
Ser Yulian the Hunter pushed the door open with her shoulder and a light snowfall of dust clouded the entryway on this disturbance. With lantern in hand the scarred knight stepped into the second floor meeting hall of ‘The Fifth Sword’ tavern. The long central table was still set up in an unbroken line. She could see the gouge where Ser Francis’ dagger had impaled the map of the Sableheart a year prior. She could see the dark stain on the booth in the far window where Ser Xavier had bled to death waiting for a Doktor, but the scorched curtain torn down by Lord Dan Bremmer had been replaced, so there was that.
The Banneret stepped past her, laying his winged polearm to the side of the door and his heavy satchel on the table. He rested a hand on the sword at his belt, rocking his head back, closing his eyes, and sighing in that melancholy way of his. Ser Yulian shuffled her feet slightly and stepped up beside him.
“Are you well, your lordship?”
Ser Louisoix Leveilleur, the Sage, the First, The Knight of Hearts, Archmage of the Order of Avalon, Once Senator of Weiland, Current Banneret of the First Banner, looked askance at his bodyguard and smiled ruefully as a distant clatter began to thunder up the stairs.
“I’m tired, Ser Yulian. That is all,” he responded with an easy charm. Yulian nodded and stepped away, busying herself with the room’s lanterns as a trio of Ritter apprentices shattered into the room, clutching an armour stand, an armful of folios, and enough weapons for twice their number. Behind them came the Ritter-General; Isolde Wulfden. Even here in the soon to be command post she wore her black-steel armour and mercy blade, her eyes examining a map of the region as she walked into the room. Her raven brows furrowed in concentration as she took in the latest scouts reports, even as her spare hand placed more intelligence on the table. Her eyes flicked up to the Banneret who gave her a nod, knowing not to interrupt her.
After lighting the last lantern Yulian allowed herself to pause at the large window at the far end of the room. The place where Ser Xavier had died, where Lord Orsa had fought off the fire that threatened to engulf the building, where she had so often stood, looking over Eisen’s meagre cityscape to where it suddenly stops, as if the entire world fell off into the rivers green-black depths. She wasn’t happy to be back here, but duty does not care for happiness, only that it is served. Behind her the Ritter-General began to speak as the room filled with squires, other knights, and Ritters from the Baronial force, breaking Yulian’s reverie. For a moment when she turned she saw the room half as full and only with her companions she had laid to rest here a year prior, or the year before that. Ser Helene and her flowing blonde hair, stained red with her own brain matter. Squire Max and his easy smile, broken by a deathknights mace. Ranger Tourmine, his dark skin lost in the darkness of the river as those pale hands dragged him down.
“Ser Yulian?”
The Ritter-General’s tone was firm but low, as she tended to speak when not on the battlefield. The knight shook herself and came to attention.
“Ready, Ritter-General.”
-
The dead swayed with the trees, an unbroken wall of bark, blood, and braying howls as far as the eye could see. Among their number flitted necromancers in their black robes, alchemists in their scarred aprons, and rottmongers in their pitted plate. Somewhere, far to the rear, the Wraith of Port Gargant loomed, its red emberful eyes visible at what must have been more than a mile, unblinking flickers of angry fate. Somewhere along the line an animated corpse collapsed forward, the sickness in its unliving body unravelling the blood and alchemy that animated it. The body thrashed on the muddy shore before the flowing river dragged it away, spreading its viscera and sickness within the darkened waters.
“Go.”
The word moved through the trees at a forceful whisper, but could be heard in the heart of Eisen, in the empty classroom of the Ritter’s academy, in the basements where families huddled, the Alchemist of Brumhaven making its simple order known. The vast horde took one step forward, then another. Arrows pierced their rotted skin, and still they marched. Into the river, and beyond.
Game Information
Over the Summer, Danakka Rimortis attacked the Sableheart from the East, bringing 10,000 undead in a crushing assault over the Eisen River. This came at a time where eastern Resinderholz was beset by fae trickery and monstrous foes. The arrival of more Blasserstreit brought forward by Danakka’s forces brought only additional suffering.
In response The Concord rallied two armies; The Legion of the Blackheart Bear, defending their home barony and in many ways their hometown, and the 1st Banner of Bordevar, a force of knightly warriors who were well-known in Eisen for their numerous defences of the region, Nearly 10,000 of The Concord’s own troops to face down the dead, the disease, and dangers of the Sableheart.
They have held firm.
Thousands of Dead Souls
“It’s enough to make you miss the desert isn’t it Ser Yulian?” came Squire Gerard’s stunning observation, as if Yulian hadn’t heard him make it to every other person in the patrol on his way up to her. Yulian simply grunted from inside her helmet as she hauled herself up the hillock and surveyed her surroundings.
Or at least she tried to; the entire rise was covered in gnarled Weald-oaks that nearly created a crude palisade. What she could see was a force of thirty Wealders, gathering up their packs and stretching before their own march back to Eisen. A tall and gaunt warrior approached her, the four sword tabard he wore marking him out as a full Ritter and by his tired eyes, their commander. They shook hands briefly.
“Ritter Vladim Arvind, 4th Company.” His voice was high and melodious, like a wine-party bard. It was almost offputting.
“Ser Yulian the Hunter, 1st Lance.” She responded, raising her visor. “Your report?”
The ritter slid a shard of glowing crystal into his mouth and bit down on it hard, the sound of tinkling glass and popping mana followed by a flare of pink light from his eyes. He whistled gently as he rolled his shoulders, steel pauldrons clattering.
“Nine attacks in the week, from every direction including the one you’ve just come. Mostly risen, but ghouls at night. They’ve been climbing in the canopy to try and shoot down into our numbers. The risen have taken to burrowing under the roots of the oaks, I’m just thankful they haven’t tried to burn it down.” His words came quick, almost hurried, his mouth backlit by lavender energy.
“Nineteen losses overall. Fifteen to the foe, four to the ‘Streit.” His long arm swept over a heaped mound of soil adorned with simple wooden markers and another, smaller, pile of ash and soil.
“Understood Vladim. We’ll take it from here.” Yulian waved a hand over her shoulder and her force of fifty began to replace the Baronial forces in their positions. Knights in full livery flowing into the sunlit field like steel peacocks replacing emaciated hunting hounds. As the groups departed, Yulian turned to Vladim one last time.
“How do you cast arcane magicks in such armour?” She enquired, her brows crooked under her dirty arming cap. The skeletal Ritter smiled a rictus grin.
“Oh, I’m no mage. It just makes me feel alive.”
-
It was Ranger Layla’s whistle that alerted Yulian that the relief column was approaching the position, finally putting an end to a whole day of waiting. She pulled herself to her feet and grimaced as her knee clicked and ground against itself, the image of her kneecap bent inwards and under her thighguard where the Rottmongers bill had punctured it living stubbornly in her mind. She went to shout but instead just gestured to Squire Gerard.
“ALRIGHT, ON YOUR FEET SERS AND SQUIRES! MARCHING TIME.”
A young woman clambered up the hillside on all fours, Ranger Layla close behind. The Wealder was not who Yulian had expected to see. Instead of the gaunt Ritter Vladim she was staring down at a stocky woman in her late teens, hair close cropped, and three swords on her singed beltflap. The woman came to attention and saluted the Knight with determination.
“Ritter-Apprentice Jiselle Fakkmeyer reporting to relieve Ser.”
Yulian blinked, her vision swimming for a moment, she could still feel the risen’s hands on either side of her helmet, slamming her head into the oaktree before her own gauntlet fists, bereft of blade, had shattered its arms from its sodden sockets.
“Where is Vladim?” Her voice was hollow, like an empty suit of armour.
“Dead Ser. An assault on the riverdocks last night. I am his replacement.”
Yulian nodded, and began to walk past the apprentice, falling in line with Ser Jaimie the Winged Glory and the two squires carrying Ser Carling the Dusk’s corpse. The would-be-Ritter called out to her.
“Your report Ser?!”
Yulian stopped, swayed for a moment before turning, her grime encrusted helm under one arm.
“Kill the dead. Don’t join them.”
Game Information
Both the 1st Banner and the Legion of the Blackheart Bear undertook Cautious Defence orders, but the wide variety of maladies made it difficult to perceive exactly how extensive losses would be.
The 1st Banner was badly mauled, suffering nearly seven hundred casualties. They begin this season in The Sableheart at a strength of 5800.
The Legion of the Blackheart Bear was wounded to an even greater extent, losing nearly nine hundred soldiers and Ritters. They begin this season in the Sableheart at a strength of 2600.
Concordian forces managed to hold the Sableheart after a season of dispersed fighting against undead capable of striking from anywhere. Enemy casualties are difficult to confirm, but are reported to be as high as 2200. At some point late in the season enemy reinforcements cease. There is no retreat, and forces in place are destroyed, but the undead attack is broken. Danakka Rimortis’s horde retreats to Wolfsbuel.
Ask the Ghosts if Honour Matters
Her bare fist rapped on the door twice and was met by an even, woman's voice.
“Come in.”
Ser Yulian opened that door into the Eisen command room, that meeting hall on The 5th Swords second floor. Outside the streets milled with knights, squires, and townsfolk; it wasn’t lively, but the sense that the greatest part of this season’s fighting was over had certainly pervaded through the town. As the wounded Knight limped into the room she had opened three months prior she found it empty, save for the Ritter-General sitting at the main table, her equipment, and a handful of papers.
The Ritter-General looked up at her. She was younger than Yulian by at least a decade, but her eyes were like cold steel, despite the fact that they carried the weight of thousands of lives behind them. Even now, after months of fighting her dark hair was tied back, her armour was ready, and her gaze unwavering.
“Ser Yulian, I apologise, you will not find the Banneret here.”
Yulian leaned against the table and nodded solemnly, pulling the weight from her injured leg.
“Do you know where I could find him? I need to speak with him.”
The Ritter-General shook her head and stared away into the table in that manner Greenwealders have, as if they were suspicious of the timber even after it was long parted from its forest.
“I do, but you won’t have luck. He’s in quarantine for the rest of the day after a Blasserstreit exposure. After that he’ll probably be like me and preparing to make for Passage. Why?”
Pushing a chair out with her good leg, Yulian sat down and rested her hands on the table. The words came forth easily, like her sword from its scabbard.
“Because I want to ask him for my leave from the Banner. I want to go home to Everguarde and try for my Virtues. I want to go home to Everguarde and see my family. I want to go home to Everguarde and replace my equipment.”
“I want to go home to Everguarde and rest.”
The taciturn Greenwealder paused silently for a moment, nodding. As she did she tapped a half-closed letter in her hands, the spiral sigil of The Concord emblazoned on it. She cleared her throat for a moment before speaking softly.
“I do not believe it will be within his power to do so, if this missive from The Senate is anything to go off of. But regardless of what happens, my people are thankful for what you have done here this Summer Ser. I hope that brings you some peace.”
Yulian nodded slowly as she stood on uncertain legs and made her way from the Command Room for the last time this season. She did not allow herself to look back, back at the spot where Xavier had died, where Lord Orsa had fought flames, where she had stood tall three months ago.
If she had, she would have seen the Ritter-General raise a red-sore finger to her nose, have it come back bloody, and sigh with defeat.
Game Information
The Legion of the Blackheart Bear has gained the ‘Plagued’ trait. The 1st Banner has not.
The following characters have had their base hitpoints and maximum hitpoints reduced by 1 for the Autumn Summit as their bodies recover from Blasserstreit. They are not ill currently:
- Ritter-General Isolde Wulfden
- Ser Louisoix Leveilleur
There will be decisions regarding the Legion of the Blackheart Bear for the General of the Legion of the Blackheart Bear and the Krahenmeister of Schloss Mortis
Greenwealder scouts from Eisen report that there is no movement on the far side of the River Eisen. They are not expecting an assault into the Sableheart from the East this season.