The Iron Valley has developed its culture over more time than can be counted - like the stone structures that they surround themselves with, each Age has stacked upon the ones that came before, forming a great, complex history, stronger than could ever be dismantled. But, like any great hall, some parts had worn away until they were barely remembered. The Old Gods of The Valley, only recently uncovered, are one such keystone of Valley culture, as is the new fervour more recently evoked from them - that of the Bloodglass Inheritors.
The mentality of the Inheritors, spurred by the ardent endorsement of the Heroes of The Valley, is one that has continued to spread over Windholme and Bolsterlee, from those looking up at Baelags, to those overlooking the Bay of Promised Gold. From their sigils of scarlet antlers and cries of killing as one, the future of The Iron Valley seems to be one carved from bloody axes and conquered lands.
Clasp My Blooded Hands
The ring of steel in Abelard is not an uncommon sound, particularly in these times of war, pending invasion, and desire for inheritance. Long have the people of this Valley town been vocal about the importance of violence and its place in The Iron Valley, and greatly received was the Heroic decision to follow the path of The Bloodglass Inheritors. Even now, nearly a year later, flags of burgundy are sewn and flown, while the antlers of bloody stags are boldly plastered across banners and bodies alike.
The people of Abelard would be the first to speak the new words of violence. The first to follow the Heroes of The Valley into an ancestral inheritance of conquest. The first to adorn their cloaks, their shields, their very lives with the icons of The Bloodglass Inheritance. And they would not be the only ones. Miners from The Rumwold Vastness and yet others from Heinsgraf march into The Steinvaults, their brows painted and minds engraved, set on saving those captured by the enemy. In Brakkenloh, more and more rooftops and windowsills hang great red fabric braids and cloths, turning the already lively city into a true spread of cultural loyalty.
The High Valley turns in droves towards the decided path, and the signs are beginning to show themselves in kind.
To ask any in Abelard, they would wish to say they were the source of such a change, but such a thing belongs to the Heroes that represent The Valley in Passage. Instead, they would happily admit to being the fervent few who spread such a change with every passing breath, though whether this rings true across Windholme is still up for debate. Regardless, Abelard’s streets and people seemingly resonate with the core of The Inheritance, perhaps to the point of fallacy.
Modified Sokn Duels are no strange thing within Valley tradition. To argue and fight can be argued to be done in many different ways, and often it is the crowd itself that judges such things valid for the topic at hand. Still, for matters of great importance or insult, the core ideal of a Sokn Duel remains clear, and the method to which it is done usually sustained. The people of Abelard would see this taken a step further.
Slowly, but surely, more and more Sokn Duels within the town are fought with sharp and bladed weapons.
While still largely uncommon, the practice has seen a notable rise with the declaration of war against The Severed Lords by Senator Ivern of the Icereach, and the subsequent invasion. Accepted by the crowds that watch them, such practice is not done foolishly nor against one's will. Both parties must accept, and the parties themselves must be the ones to ensure a healer or surgeon is present and able to attend to the most crucially wounded, whether they be the victor of the Sokn or not. Despite this, the inherent risk remains.
The controversial choice is argued to promote the essence of what a Sokn Duel truly is in a culture of conquerors. While certainly it encourages the particular skill of fighting while under duress, while still maintaining a cool head and ability to verbally react, only time will tell if such a dangerous style is warranted even in the eyes of Inheritance. Only time will tell if the inevitable deaths and grievous wounds will be worth the fervour of Abelard’s people.
Only time will tell what The High Valley truly makes of their Blooded Inheritance.
Game Information
As The Bloodglass Inheritance spreads through The High Valley, some of the people of Abelard promote a new and dangerous method of Sokn Duels. To fight with sharp and bladed weapons only, risking injury and death while staying true to their belief of the core essence of what a Sokn Duel should be. While those that agree to such duels eagerly shout about why they are necessary, those that disagree against such foolishness can equally be heard.
So far, such a practice is not common, even within Abelard itself, but its popularity is notably growing. There will be decisions for the Senator of Windholme and the Champion of The Valley in regards to the validity of such a thing at the coming Summit.
Iron Valley characters who agree with the practice may follow the below roleplay prompt:
“Under bloody threat my argument is made truly clear to me and those I must convince; all else corrupting it shall fade away beneath the sting of a blade.”
Conviction Within My Heart and Soul
There has been a separation between Bolsterlee and the violence of war in recent years, but there are none who could say it does not know it at all. The Axemans and First Mercenary Wars are but a few of the great conflicts known to the coastal land, once a Baile and now a Lee. The influence of The Bloodglass Inheritors resides within the people as clear as it does the land, different in form yet not so far removed as one may expect.
The blue of the ocean lapping at its cliffs and shores would begin to see a contrast of red spread over the last few months. Raised poles holding icons of The Inheritance, placed by those that trust in it as the true way forward. While perhaps less immediately impactful in a visual sense compared to those of Windholme, the people of Bolsterlee nonetheless embrace the path in their own ways.
Strivington and Jaalstead both see an equal measure of such a thing, as a small number of fighting rings and pits begin to appear across the towns. While not an uncommon sight before now, these new hubs of simple violence seem to have been designed with a purpose in mind, and those that enter their bounds seem to be doing so with determination rather than a desire for mindless brutality.
As the children of Conquerors, is it not right to fight?
A cry yelled and echoed by those in attendance to one such particularly popular fighting pit at the docks of Jaalstead.
To fight is to injure, and to be fought is to be injured! In this simplicity we taste our own blood, and it is in our blood that we earn our right to be called Conquerors!
It would be these words that stir something in those listening. It would be this sentiment that gives rise to an urge for violence. It would be the path of conquerors that such violence craves, and it would be easily walked between those willing to suffer its consequence.
These fights would not be Sokn Duels, but instead an outlet for violent ideals. Perhaps caused by the walking of the path of The Bloodglass Inheritors, or perhaps always latent in some of the people of Bolsterlee. Regardless, there would be reason in such things for those participating, a justification for the blooded lips and broken bones.
There is no purpose in being injured for no reason, but to bleed for a cause? Now that is something to die for. To fervently believe in it, to fight tooth and nail for it. To take hold of what's yours and never let go. That is to conquer.
That is to be of The Valley.
Game Information
Controversial changes in Abelard would seem as if they are almost echoed throughout The Low Valley, but instead such tidings would be more locally sourced. Small portions of Strivington and Jaalstead would begin to create arenas in which fist fights and more are the focus. Such things, not done as Sokn Duels or for entertainment, would instead be spun as a determination to bleed for the cause of The Inheritors, and for The Valley itself.
There is a grim fervour in these arenas, rings and pits, one that is different from the new style of Sokn Duels in Abelard. And one that seems more far spread, and perhaps more quickly growing as a result. Such a thing has its purpose, and so far the risk to life seems slim to none, but whether it is truly right or wrong, even if done with the best of intentions, remains to be seen.
There will be decisions for the Senator of Bolsterlee and The Champion of The Valley in regards to these fighting rings at the coming Summit.
Iron Valley characters who agree with the ideals portrayed in this entry may follow the below roleplay prompt:
“I will bleed for my cause and beliefs, because it shows the strength of my convictions above all others. I will fight as I must to prove this true.”
Is it True the Grass Is Greener?
There are none who can dispute that The Iron Valley was once a monolith.
A massive sprawling nation that embraced near a quarter, perhaps a third, of all of Southern Esterra over their history. With beginnings in the Age of Stone, beyond an age ago now, Windholme and Brotherslee have long been connected to The Ancient Valley. Even in the Age of Steel, the coastal lands of Anderslee and the conquered lands of Baile Fein, Baile Abhain and Baile Fealtoiri would lay firmly beneath the control of those atop the mountains. Those at the peak, who knew their united strength would reward them the very world in which they lived.
Yet time is cruel, and cares little for fallen and victor alike.
Now, Brotherslee is held by an enemy that dares to step foot into Windholme, an aggressor at the beginning of a new war. Baile Fein and Baile Fealtoiri echo the once strong independence of Baile Lochra, returned to the hands of those that were once called thrall. The coasts of Anderslee having seen too much, the trails in its sandy beaches all too unknown for all too long. The lands and the territories beyond Valley borders no longer belong to them, of this there can be no argument. Of this there is no doubt.
But what if, in the Age of Heroes, a bloody path emerges?
What if an Origin of Iron can be reclaimed once more? What if there is more to The Bloodglass Inheritance than the simple will to fight and conquer? What piece of ancient history can be pulled from the pools of blood that must be spilled along the way?
There are rumblings within The Valley that remain. Tales told of the Ages of Stone, Steel and Stars. Stories of the ancient Origin of Iron, of a history lost to the lands from which its influence was once so clearly felt. Whispers of an identity beyond that of a Bloodglass Inheritance. Dreams of a true revival of the nation that once ever so proudly claimed the world to be theirs for the taking.
And there would be heroes to earn it. Armies and Fleets to see it done.
Eyes stare with burning purpose towards Brotherslee and Baile Fealtoiri. These lands sit the closest still to reclamation, and the greatest chance to step towards the Origin of Iron once more. To take such steps would be to unearth what has been buried by loss and time. To grasp in bloody fists a true belonging. To reforge a path once broken with the bones of those who dare to stand against The Valley.
Will The Iron Valley unite its broken lands?
-=-=-=-=-
As the influence of The Bloodglass Inheritance manifests in various ways across The Valley’s Regions, eyes flit towards their borders and minds turn back to times of yore. Once, The Valley were great conquerors, and such a thing is to be inherited among The Bloodglass. But there was something more, whispers tell, something greater than a simple will to conquer. Rumours spread that hidden across the lands of The Valley would be hints towards a great secret of its past, one that would signify a true recovery of who The Iron Valley once claimed themselves to be.
Such a thing would come to be known as The Origin of Iron.
While still nothing but a whispered ideal, those at the borders of Brotherslee and Baile Fealtoiri swear upon their names that there is some hidden truth to The Origin. That by conquering the lands that were once of The Valley, such facts would come to light and bring a manifested change amongst its people. A True Inheritance, the epitome of The Bloodglass and what it meant for The Valley’s people.
While resources, military and otherwise, are set so strongly on the impending Severed Lords invasion, these rumours still spread. There is still hope that more information on The Origin of Iron can be found, but it is understood that such things must come at the cost of war.
Game Information
The growing cause of the Bloodglass Inheritors is driving the Iron Valley people to remember their past as conquerors who held a great empire, rather than defenders of last holdouts waiting for their turn in line. Pursuit of ‘The Origin of Iron’, a term for the old Iron Valley imperial borders, is shifting from empty dream to fierce ideal.
Successful aggressive attacks to the South and East will result in additional boons for the Iron Valley. In particular:
- Claiming The Kings Pass and Baelags Holdfast back from the Severed Lords will provide Boons to Iron Valley armies.
- Declaring war on The Bailites and attacking into Baile Fealtoiri will incense local forces in Bolsterlee to rally alongside Iron Valley armies, providing additional strength in such an invasion.
- Campaigns beyond The Kings Pass into Brotherslee will provide additional wealth to the High Reeves Council to distribute, as lost boroughs are brought back into the fold.
There will be additional information and opportunities for the Origin of Iron for the Champion of the Valley. While there is no telling how long such a fervent ideal can wait amongst bloodthirsty people, it is likely that additional information and opportunities can extend such a period.
Not Yet Carved in Stone
Agnar watched the water lap against the shore, eyes heavy and conflicted as he stared at the sun slowly setting above The Bay of Promised Gold. Fingers and knees aching, even in the soothing warmth of the balmy air, he tried to blink away the worry that always seemed to sidle its way into his subconscious mind.
He could hear Eilis and Bran over the gentle waves, their hollering ringing true from off in the fighting pit that they’d been frequenting over the past few nights. It didn’t matter how many other bairns joined them, forming a roaring cacophony of thumping fists, sparking blades, and belting successes, he could still hear his children through the noise.
He’d listened to them cry as they’d been brought into the world, one after the other, his stomach churning with anxiety and joy in equal measure. He’d heard them screech with delight as they’d been gifted the carved figures - a badger for Eilis, a fox for Bran - that they still kept in their rooms, his heart filled with relief and mourning at the same time.
And now, he sat, staring at his line cast into the waters, his ears catching on the roars of victory and snarls of defeat, unsure of which of his feelings would win out. His body, frailer now than it had ever been, remained, held up by the stool his uncle helped him carve in summers he could barely remember, now.
Agnar remembered his Uncle Randal in parts, disparate as he always seemed to be in the fading recollections that remained. He had been an axe, glistening with scarlet blood, face filled with fervour as he reminisced over cutting down Legionnaires. He had been a shield, splintered and dented, eyes filled with a mournful rage over not having fought hard enough for his son.
Agnar was sure, regardless of how fragmented his memories seemed to be of his mother’s brother, that Uncle Randal would have been alongside Eilis and Bran if he could have, screaming with throat-tearing joy as he watched them grow stronger in their victories and their defeats.
But Agnar couldn’t quite do it. He could listen, to be sure, ears keen even as his limbs and eyes began to fail him. But he hated watching them come home with bloodied lips and swollen eyes. He tried to bring himself to walk to one of the pits, to feel the same swell of cultural fervour grip his heart as many of the others as he saw children he helped raise fight for a cause, but he couldn’t quite get there.
Instead, each determined yell made him long for the calmness atop Hjorvarths Rampart once more - telling stories of Deorling the Hero and Kafrieda the Carver to his wide-eyed, hopeful children. Each memory of Uncle Randal as the crumbling berserker who died a warrior’s death, alone, against Illsevir he couldn’t stop, made him wish he could remember more of Uncle Randal as the patient carpenter, who carved badgers and foxes and rocking chairs, ready for a grand-niece and nephew he wouldn’t live long enough to see.
Another cry from a distant pit jolted the aging man from his reverie, and Agnar wiped away tears he hadn’t realised were wetting his cheeks. As the sun finally sunk below the horizon, he began reeling in his line so he could hobble back up the dock.
It wasn’t until his feet were planted back on the solid earth again that he remembered that he was not alone. Though it was not uncommon for others of the settlement to gather around the dock as the sun made its way beneath the waves, these gatherings seemed to be quietly growing. His fishing rod over his shoulder, he nodded to Dalla, repairing the wire on her crayfish traps, then cast his eyes over the rest of the group spread over the square.
“Having a party, are we?” he asked, his attempt at joking falling flat.
The younger woman quirked her brow, standing to greet him properly.
“Ah, for sure, Agnar - nothing gets a party going like a good bit of whitling,” she responded, stepping forward to clasp his forearm, kind-natured enough to ignore his reddened eyes.
Her husband grumbled, raising his knife up in mock anger as the others seated at the same table chuckled, his eyes not moving from whatever he was uncovering.
Dalla scanned Agnar’s face briefly, then offered him her arm. Taking it gladly, Agnar cursed his aching joints, and walked with her through the square. Steps slow, they passed table after table, clearly carried from within dwellings. He saw groups of Menders, their conversation surrounded by the grinding of pestle against herb and mortar; of Sagites, blanketed by the scratching of quills on Tomes, and more carvers, crafters, and carpenters than he’d ever seen in one spot. It reminded him of Hjorvarths.
The whole group’s gaze shifted, conversations paused, as another raucous cry echoed from the fighting pit down the way. After a moment, the low hum of discussion resumed as people began lighting lanterns for their tables, and Agnar wished that he had brought his.
“Waiting for Eilis and Bran?” Dalla asked as they reached the edge of the square, the lights behind them suffusing their peripheral vision in a warm if removed glow.
Agnar nodded voicelessly, facing the darkened path that led to the home he shared with his children. The two stood, quiet only broken by the sporadic shouting from the pit.
As he nodded again, almost in resignation, and took a step towards his empty home, Agnar was stopped by Dalla’s hand on his shoulder. Turning to look at her, crenellations inked in blue around her wrist and forearm like Bands of Fate, he waited, suddenly feeling the weight of his years on his shoulders.
“Why don’t you wait with us?” she said gently. “Might make for a better evening?”
As they walked back into the lantern light, arm in tattooed arm, the shouting felt more distant than it had all season.
***
Similar interactions are seen across the High and Low Valley - though not anywhere as frequent or frequented as the groups inspired by the Bloodglass Inheritors, these gatherings of engineers and craftfolk remain throughout the season, sharing ideas and inspiration amongst themselves.
These groupings, made up of those who do not dream of conquering lost lands, but of protecting and growing in what they already have, do not align themselves with the blood-red antlers decorating many Iron Valley banners, walls, and faces. Instead, there is a quiet response to such Heroic ideals, reflecting on the necessity to build up what remains; a focus on nurturing to survive, rather than living to kill.
Game Information
Though the determination and fervour for the martial history that the Bloodglass Inheritors have reignited is felt by many across the High and Low Valley, the movement is not universal. As with any cultural shift, particularly one formed from historical embers, it will take time and effort for it to be accepted by all within The Iron Valley.
As such, though the Bloodglass Inheritors form a strong ideology within The Valley at present, there remains a concern among a growing contingent still ardent in their belief that The Valley would benefit from focussing their efforts inwards, rather than outwards. Inspired by the few Heroes of The Valley that aligned themselves with the Great Builders, these folks, referring to themselves as the Greatstone Carvers, have been meeting with ideals of the defence and development of Windholme and Bolsterlee.
To reflect these growing ideologies in the wider Valley, any Iron Valley character submitting a Downtime for this coming Summit with actions within Iron Valley territory, including Producing as Standard or undertaking Standard Action, will have the opportunity to support either the Bloodglass Inheritors or the Greatstone Carvers.
Though this will not impact the production of investments, declaring such support will continue to impact the beliefs of the wider Valley, reflective of Heroes and their groups sharing conversation and acting during their downtime hours.
As demonstrated through the Heroic support for the Bloodglass Inheritors, supporting either contingent will have impacts on the overall philosophy of The Valley, with opportunities for Heroes arising through these shifts and changes.
Further reading at Winds of the World Autumn 225