A fervour for change and reclamation are spreading over The Iron Valley, like a covering of moss on an ancient mountain peak.
Things once thought lost, histories that were believed to be nothing more than that, have been brought to life through the words and actions of the Heroes of The Concord; blood-red antlers decorate the banners of Heroes and home-folk alike, each image another step towards their promised inheritance.
And further from home, though no more important because of this distance, an old foe has been brought low in its mountainous home. There shall be sullying of the old gods in the name of blasphemous cults no longer.
The rest of The Concord waits, watching, to see how The Valley will make a new future from restorations of their age-old past.
Stand as Ageless Conquerors
As The Iron Valley came again to the Summit of The Concord in months now past, a decision needed to be made. Adorning themselves with either the sigils of the Bloodglass Inheritors or the Great Builders, there was once again a division of choice presented to the Heroes, great and swaying representatives of their people. There was a question as to which path The Iron Valley would follow, be it one that inherits the violence of the past or one that finds its foundation in solid stone.
The sheer number of blood-red antlers gave voice and answer enough.
The path of the Bloodglass Inheritors was to be the one that The Valley would follow, forevermore taking a step towards claiming their bloody and violent inheritance. Following the Winter Summit, the people of both Windholme and Bolsterlee could be seen adding the sigil of the blood-red antlers to their arms, shields and banners. This choice made by the Heroes, while not universal, was more than enough to sway the people to the path of the Inheritors. Not a single person of the common Valley would don the sigil of the Great Builders, instead seeking a unity with each other that can only be granted by walking the same journey.
This was not some declaration of war, nor some false claim to greatness. This was a promise. A promise by the people to follow in the steps of their ancestors and beat back those that would seek to ruin them. A promise to carry their steel to glory and their companions back home. A single purpose to see The Valley suffer no longer beneath the boots of those that think they stand above. No longer will any be as tall as the mountains, for is it not The Valley itself that gives the mountains their stature.
Across The High and Low Valley, a change could be felt through the people. An understanding made more manifest, more real, throughout all of the Boroughs. What is it that truly holds The Valley together? There could be no answer but blood shed side by side, no matter the reason. This would be taken a step even further by the martial folk of Abelard, always a people of war and action.
An echo has always rung through The Valley when called, but now it would see another stand alongside it. A call, made for the purpose of action and seeing wrath brought upon the enemy. A cry that, when heard and repeated, would see the boots of warriors step forward to grasp a future of steel rather than reclaim a future of stone. With blood and glory, The Valley would slowly but surely repeat the words first said in the streets of Abelard.
“We Kill Together”
Game Information
The actions of the Heroes of The Iron Valley have determined the path for its people. There were a great many that adorned themselves with the sigil of the Bloodglass Inheritors at the past Summit, and this has been noticed and adopted by the people as a whole. The martial history of The Iron Valley has become a great focus, and a great shift in the people’s mentality will make itself clear in the coming years.
Those of The Iron Valley that wish to adopt the symbol of the Bloodglass Inheritors, a pair of red antlers, in their banners, shields or costumes are highly encouraged to do so. This will grant no mechanical benefit but is indicative of the new unity felt by the people as a whole.
A small number of particularly martial focused Valleyfolk have begun to echo a new call, one with a new purpose and goal. Those that truly wish to embody the conquerors of times past may choose to echo the call “We Kill Together” in times of aggression and conflict, signifying a desire to move as one against an enemy. This would not be to replace the unifying call of “We Stand Together”, but instead be used alongside it as a call to action against a foe.
Our Shields Break the Avalanche
Seven-hundred faces stared out at The Rotted Valley. In any other context, for any other people, it could have been a beautiful sight to behold; a vast, winding passage of glittering green grass in the morning mist, surrounded on either side by the shale cliffs at the base of The Steinvaults. Flowers bloomed even here, poppies of red and grey, sprinkled over the verdant ground, swaying gently in the breeze.
Yet, despite its undeniable beauty, there was an unease in the air. Certainly not a fear, nor anything close to resignation - simply a trepidation. No matter how stunning their surrounds seemed, how strong they felt, they knew this beauty was an illusion that had been shattered once before by blood. The Iron Valley had lost so many to The Rotted Pelt over the last twelve-months; family and friends slain in battle, their futures stolen from them, never to be returned.
The marching of boots paused.
The eclectic force - young in step with old, miners in step with mercenaries, soldiers in step with sailors - seemed to breathe as if one for a moment, taking a great inhale as seven-hundred spines steeled themselves.
Despite the blessings of Panoply, it was the might of Cervitas and Arcadian in their souls that drove them onwards. It was their faith, both in The Spheres and their homeland, that pushed them to step into this forbidden place. They marched, determined to remove the blasphemous splinter that had burrowed its way into their land and their people.
As they marched, they were prepared for traps.
They were prepared for an ambush.
They were prepared to lay down their lives for their Valley, as those before them had done.
They were not prepared for a calm journey up into The Steinvaults.
Each hour that passed with no attacking enemies, no chanting cultists, no blades drawn, concerned the force more and more, until they were marching in near silence, guided by their Summitters.
This path, once tread by heroes of legend, should have been difficult. The blessings of Panoply could be thanked, in part, for the ease with which they travelled; where there normally would be deep sheets of snow, there was instead worn stone to clamber over, the ice thawed by golden light.
If the quiet wasn’t so disconcerting, it could almost be peaceful; they were above the mist, and could see their burroughs spread below them like a patchwork blanket of home and hearth. They could hear the chirping of birds, and the whistling of winds.
It was not until they reached the expansive, dilapidated temple that they could finally hear the enemy they had been so longing to cross. It was almost a relief when the battle cries of the cultists echoed out across the peaks, a roar felt ever louder by the silence that preceded it.
But even these ferocious warriors of The Rotted Pelt seemed to lack the bite and claw with which they had previously attacked; for each blow landed upon a Concordian, two were dealt to the blasphemers and heretics, until they lay bloodied and broken beneath the blades of The Valley.
When the force of mercenaries, miners, and sailors finally entered the structure proper, their boots slick with the ichor of their enemies, they could not help but feel a sadness in their souls. All this pain, all this loss, all this grief, with nowhere else to put it.
The cultists were slain. Their legacy was ended. Yet the memories of the fallen remained, stained into the minds of all who had known and loved them. No amount of bloodshed would bring them back. Nothing they could do would alter the past.
So, they instead forged ahead for the future.
A temple, once besieged by rot and ruin, began to be reclaimed. Room after room was emptied, returned, restored to the stone it was born from. Pelts were destroyed, idols smashed, and etchings carved away, until only one remained, locked behind spells that would take the Pathfinders time to unravel.
Soon, almost nothing of the cult remained; only their burning bodies, and their arcane magics on the final door to the final room to the final remnant of The Rotted Pelt. And by the will of The Valley, even those would not remain there for long.
Game Information
A force of seven-hundred Iron Valley warriors, guided by Heroes of The Concord, have rooted out The Rotted Pelt, formerly known as The Bear Cult, from their blasphemous home. The vast majority of The Rotted’s cultists have been utterly decimated under the forces of The Concord, with only a scattered few remaining.
There will be decisions relating to the fate of The Rotted Pelt for the Champion of The Valley and the Reeves Council. Additionally, there will be an opportunity at this coming Summit for members of The Iron Valley to destroy the source of The Rotted Pelt once and for all.