Windholme is a place sawn in half by its history, both recent and ancient. Now, The Concordian Valley are held arm’s length from territory that once belonged to them by a stronghold that was once their own, now wielded against them by those that call it home. Though it did not have to be this way, the course is as set as the carved stairs of Goddream - when The Severed Lords offered peace, The Concord instead gave them war, and must now fulfil the promises they made.
The conflict that forms does so in a shape that is far too familiar for many of those in Brakkenloh, Abelard, and Heinsgraf - a war in the east, fought now against Severed Lords, rather than what they were before, shadowed under the shifting stones of Baelags Holdfast. May this war come to a different end than the one before.
The End of the Pendulum Swing
The fires of each of the pyres atop Baelags continued to blaze day and night throughout the Autumn Summit, and well into the Winter Season – even on the blisteringly cold evenings, their extremities feeling as though they had been tipped with ice, the scouts that watched to the east of Brakkenloh could still see their orange glow in the distance.
The seasons did not matter to those such as Adanoskr, Lord of the Lowland, and Haveeka, She Who Holds the Fortress – the gelid air did not compare to the newly-formed burning of anger, deep within their guts. What were frozen fingers, numbed blue in the cold indigo of night, compared to a lifetime of numbness before their realisation?
Even in the cold, Haveeka poured her anger into those burning flames, each one a statement of claim for any who would look upon them, while Adanoskr poured his into the marching boots of his forces, and his work at The Vale of Stags.
Yet raw anger, new and unknown, was clearly not enough – there was not enough anger in the world for the fighters of Adanoskr’s force, unfocused and child-like in their first foray into war, to be victorious against half of the Heroes of The Concord. No amount of blistering fury could nullify the calming effects of the Vale of Stags, and no amount of burning rage could compensate for their inexperience against their newly-declared enemies.
Those of his forces that returned from the Vale, stumbling back behind the protection that Baelags provided, did so with another feeling curling about the peripheries of their mind, taunting the edges of their wrath. They had not felt it before, and it was not yet solid enough to grasp, yet cast a hazy shadow all the same.
Even in their preparation for marching upon Concordian territory en masse, this foreign feeling did not dissipate. It did not dull their anger – it was not smoke choking out fire – but it remained, looming upon each of them, passing from one to another in an instant.
The force made their way, marching in perfect synchronicity, out from the shadows of Baelags, each and every one of them reigniting their rage upon looking back at the pyres atop the ramparts – each and every one of them blazing with a righteous anger as they thought of their love, and the home that needed protecting.
It served them well as they burned through the lone dwellings on the edges of the border, blades indiscriminately slick with the blood of those that chose to stand in their way, shields used as battering rams to destroy the homes of those that would wish to take Haveeka’s.
It did the same as they reached some of the smaller settlements, their anger met with Valley vitriol, rather than fear, as they engaged in combat rather than slaughter. Though strong, the meagre guards of remote boroughs did not last long against the steady, unwavering pace of an army thousands strong.
It would have served them well if they had made it to Brakkenloh – fueled their decimation of the city as they dismantled it brick by brick, carved pillar by carved pillar, body by endless body.
But, as the forces of The Iron Brawlers, led by Brigadier Griff Baker, marched over the horizon, standing squarely in the way of their decimation, that foreign feeling resurfaced.
Both sides, in those opening clashes, fought with caution. The Iron Brawlers did not squander their lives, drawing up their billblocks with deliberate discipline, their shouts timed and their blades measured. Adanoskr too restrained his wrath, the thralls advancing in eerie synchronicity, halting their steps when his mind willed it, pressing when the ground was sure, holding when the risk outweighed the prize. Neither commander would throw their warriors heedlessly into slaughter – both sought to hold, to bleed, to endure.
The Iron Brawlers were well supplied for such a struggle. Long trains of ox-drawn wagons shadowed their advance, laden with weapons, shields, and bundles of arrows. Healers and surgeons, grim and steady-handed, moved with the army, setting bones, binding wounds, dragging back those who would have otherwise bled out in the mud. This resilience allowed the Brawlers to plant their feet firmly in the soil, to return wounded soldiers to the line, and to grind the enemy’s advance into exhaustion.
Adanoskr’s host, though tempered by something other, was no less formidable. His forces moved like a single creature, thralls stepping in unison, shields overlapping, strikes falling with the precision of a hammer upon an anvil. Their discipline was unearthly, a machine made of flesh and wrath, ideally suited for seizing ground and locking it beneath their boots.
And then, from the west, came the warriors of Deorlings Citadel. At Thorin’s command; that Champion of the Valley, stern and unyielding, the garrison poured forth, answering the call to stand beside the Iron Brawlers. These men were of the old Valley stock, grey-eyed and grim, their war cries echoing the chants of their forefathers. They fought in tight ranks, with heavy shields and steady spears, as their ancestors of elder ages once had, their determination a wall of flesh and iron against Adanoskr’s tide.
Shoulder to shoulder with the Brawlers, they turned the battlefield into a forge. Where the Brawlers struck with careful presence, the Citadel’s warriors struck with patient endurance, holding ground with the weight of their history, each shield-wall a statement that the Valley would not be broken. Their grim resolve lent a hard edge to the fighting, and with the banner of the Citadel at their fore, they did not break.
As the innumerable billblocks clashed with the innumerable thralls and destroyed innumerable illusions, the feeling grew more solid, chipping away at the edges of their anger.
As, over weeks and weeks, the shouting of the Brawlers did not quiet, but grew louder and rougher, the feeling took shape, wrapping around the rage, and worming its way into the gaps.
As Adanoskr watched – felt – his forces fall again and again and again, the feeling gave itself a name, though Adanoskr did not wish it to.
Doubt.
The next morning, Brigadier Baker stood in the early light, grass frosted under foot, and watched as the remnants of the enemy forces crossed over the horizon, skulking back to where they came from. The army kept watching for weeks, waiting for the reprisal that was surely coming, but as the sun disappeared for the twenty-second day, and the scouts returned with shaking heads, it was clear there would not be.
Game Information:
Over the blisteringly cold winter, the forces of the Iron Brawlers and the garrison of Deorlings Citadel succeed in throwing Adanoskr back into the Kings Pass.
The fighting is brutal on the Severed Lord’s part, with massive casualties. However the strange magics of the once-Illsevir cause corpses to disappear, making a proper battle damage assessment impossible. But the warriors of Bordevar and the Valley can be confident in knowing they caused a mighty wound to this enemy force.
On The Concord’s side, losses are felt, but not evenly. Between additional supplies sent from the Senate and the cautious strategies of the Brigadier, the Iron Brawlers only suffer 300 casualties. They will go into next Season with a strength of 3300, certainly wounded, but not to be disregarded.
Such is the lack of casualties that none of the mercenaries that assisted the Iron Brawlers are damaged. In addition, supplies were not overly taxed on this campaign due to Brigadier Griff’s chosen orders. The Iron Brawlers will retain the ‘Well-Supplied’ trait going into the Summer campaigning season.
Unfortunately the losses for the Garrison of Deorlings Citadel are not so kind. After all the burials are complete, the banner-cloak’s sworn, and the blades returned home, the Citadel has suffered 800 casualties, leaving it with a strength of 3700 in the coming season. There would have been no victory without them, but all things come with a cost.
Escape of a Fire’s Spread
All was quiet. No attack. No movement. No sound from the surrounds of Baelags Holdfast, bar the whistling, gelid winds that scraped against the walls and winded their way towards Brakkenloh.
This was not for the lack of listening; the rough-and-tumble soldiers of The Iron Brawlers, even those not on patrol, and therefore in their cups, kept their rabble to a minimum, conscious of the possibility of enemy approach once again. Yet there was none. The people in the outer boroughs of Brakkenloh, gathered together in front of their hearths, kept one ear open for the conversations of their families and friends, and the other open to the east, ready for the sound of boots marching in synchronicity to take their homes. Yet there was none.
And so it went on for almost the whole Season; grass was coated silver in frost morning after morning, brought to life in the soft sun and rain day after day, and hidden in the dark night after night. Yet there were no Severed Lords painting it in splatters of scarlet blood; no enemy thralls to crush it under foot. Just the quiet, cold breeze, rustling blades with memories of the stones of Baelags.
As time trudged on, seemingly slower and slower with each passing sunset, the people could not quite find it in themselves to relax. Neither could the soldiers; patrols of the possible front did not cease, nor did standing watch in the icy evening light, staring for glimpses of torch light on the horizon.
Instead, the Season fell into uncanniness in the High Valley - somewhere between repose and response, peace and war.
It was, like all things of stillness, shifted in a moment of understanding, though not in the way that many expected.
The Brawler scouts had grown used to clambering up the ancient stairs to Goddream Pinnacle, to winding their way between the sheer cliff faces and steep inclines, illuminated by the not-so distant pyres atop Baelags, that the party took their time in identifying what had changed.
Dusk settled over the landscape, as it had for several weeks, as they clambered to the top of one the rocky outcroppings. The sky turned to a muddle of orange and pink, combined with the deepening storm clouds overhead, painting the landscape in a haze that grew darker and darker still.
The spatters of rain explained it, at first - the flickering of the light to the east. Even strange creatures such as The Severed Lords relied on dry enough timber and kind enough clouds.
The scouts watched and watched, the changes so infinitesimally small that it was not until one reached for their pocket watch and could not quite make out the time that they realised what was happening.
The fires were shrinking and shrinking until they were piles of embers that, any moment, would surely go out. The Brawlers had shown Adanoskr their teeth, and he was surely showing his stomach - his defeat.
They did not go out that night, while the scouts watched with baited breath, but such a thing made sense as the promised storm overhead decided on a different course.
They did not go out the next night either, as the people of Brakkenloh watched, not quite yet ready to allow themselves to settle into complacency, but such a thing was understandable as the strange magics of The Severed Lords were not yet understood.
They did not go out in the week following, as The Concord waited for the sign of defeat, of submission, hoping for the best.
Instead, the fires, no longer warning flames of fury, stayed the same until the end of the season, as did the silence of absent boots - an ember simmering, for inward illumination yet to be brought to light.
Game Information:
The armies of Adanoskr, Lord of the Lowlands, and Haveeka, She Who Holds the Fortress, following the defeat of the former at the hands of The Iron Brawlers, skulk behind the walls of Baelags, seething behind their sanctuary of stone.
And yet, there is no preparation of an army to invade - The Concord can expect no offensive actions into Windholme at the hands of The Severed Lords this coming Season, though the nature of their alternative actions remain unknown.
We Are the Children of Gods and Storms
Two years ago, the long retreat took its first faltering steps back into the east. The lives of thousands of Valleyfolk had already been broken, lost, or irreparably changed. But this was the first step against that fate for all. Miners dug, warriors rallied, and for the first time in many years, blood was spilled on the offensive.
Since the War Chamber’s Commandant first uttered the words Tunnel Rats, the march into Baelags has not been kind. At times, keeping that march at the forefront of Concordian concerns has been difficult, and sometimes it has failed. Warriors from many realms lie dead outside the grand fortress, and others are buried in its shadow; their tunnels now their tombs. Yet as the storms of spring sweep the Valley, the Valleyfolk pour over their maps and plan for summer.
When summer comes, the axe will rise over the neck of their lost fortress.
Warleaders across Windholme hunch over old tactics, snarl down at their training warriors, and sharpen their blades. Over tankards and tempests, they plan, scheme, and prepare. After more than a few Sokn Duels, five cuts are chosen. The Valley stands behind them, but it will fall to the heroes and the High Reeves to strike the blows.
The first cut is the most obvious and the most terrible: the great outer wall and its bastions must be assaulted. No other preparation will matter without an attack on the fortress itself. Such a battle is worse than dangerous — it is suicide. Yet an army hurled at the walls will pin the enemy in place, letting the rest of the Concord’s thousand cuts sink deep.
The second cut will be from below. Many tunnels were counter-sapped by the broken-minded Severed Lords, but just as many remain beneath the lowest floors of Baelags' bastions and storerooms. If those tunnels are filled with The Concord’s most violent and merciless fighters, the Severed Lords may truly earn their name.
The third cut will be from above. Mad skirmishers from across The Concord will descend from the Cildfrau Mountains with nothing but rope, The Spheres, and the courage warbrew brings. Baelag IX believed those mountains to be the shield at his back. He did not account for Concordian madness.
The fourth cut will be within the chaos of battle. While armies crash against the fortress walls, among them will be The Concord’s best — mercenaries, slayers, and warriors with grapples and ladders. As the rank-and-file pin the defenders, these shock troops will scale the bastions and carve their legend in blood.
The fifth cut will fall from the stars themselves. The Severed Lords must learn that the Valleyfolk and their Valley are not a twist of fate, nor a legacy lost, but inevitability. To defy them is as hopeless as defying gravity or time.
The blade in The Concord’s hand is heavy and costly — but if they can lift it, then this Autumn it will fall upon Adanoskr, Haveeka, and all their broken slaves.
Game Information
The time for The Concord to retake the King’s Pass and greatest fortress in Southern Esterra looms. Come Autumn, the Concord will be prepared. But the level of this preparedness relies on the Concordian heroes and their decisions.
Operation Tunnel Vipers is currently 52% complete. This is below expectations. However, with the mission now on the home stretch, other opportunities have opened up.
Expanding on the events of the previous Summit, any military or mining investments may now take the “Tunnel Vipers” special downtime action (no longer just Valleyfolk). Each investment brings Operation Tunnel Vipers 1% closer to completion. The tunnels and siegeworks beneath the structure have now expanded past where ancestral knowledge would be useful.
In addition, there are three special opportunities available:
1. 10 Characters with the Summiter / Shesti / Bravo / Huntsmarshall / Kings Ranger archetype take the ‘Climb the Cildfrau’ special downtime action.
- Reward: +15% Completion
2. The Shardcircle uses the ‘Starfall’ conjuration of The Arcline on Baelags Holdfast at the Third Incantation.
- Reward: +15% Completion
3. A Concordian Army moves into The King’s Pass territory. In addition to all regular orders, the following custom order is available.
| Order Title | Cas. Inf. | Cas. Suffered. | Claim. |
| Bite of the Viper | -30% | -60% | -4000 |
- Reward: +10% Completion and significantly easier opportunities next Summit:
How close Operation Tunnel Vipers is to completion will have consequences next Summit:
60%: The Severed Lords have seen past the previous misdirection used on the Illsevir, and the change of owners have meant it was all for nothing. Operation Tunnel Vipers will be called off next Summit.
70%: The status quo will remain. No special opportunities will be present at the next Summit.
80%: The assault will go ahead. A considerable force of Concordians will strike with the intent of taking a powerful beachhead, facilitating widespread taking of territory and moving deep into the fortress. There will be some confluxes and special opportunities next Summit to facilitate this.
>90%: The assault will go ahead. It will be one of the greatest assaults of the Iron Valley’s history. Concordian warriors and heroes will skirmish on many fronts, up to and including the great keep of Baelag. With this level of preparation, the focus now looks past merely taking back the territory. There will be many confluxes and special opportunities next Summit to facilitate this, and any contributions above 100% will be carried over. In addition, an Emergency Conflux will take place, with long term consequences for the Severed Lords.