Chronicler Vian's Log

Fifteenth of September, Seven Hundred and Sixty Ninth year since the Seminal War

Old Leon, retired Chronicler, Remembering

Honor. Loyalty. Duty. Such have been the watchwords of the Ironbark Company for more years than even I can remember. I learned them from Chronicler Teloch himself, bless his old soul. I have read his Logs, and those of Sian Kendra before him, and those of Rhineshield before her. Even the Logs of Innoch, going all the way back to the Founding, before the Seminal War.

In all of those Logs, in over nine hundred years of history, Ironbark has never broken a contract. Others have broken contracts with us, once upon a time. And we have blacklisted them in turn, never again taking contracts with them. But now...

I walk about the camp, and listen to the men and women of Ironbark. Of the Westmarchers, garrison militia and farmer alike. I hear and see a mood blacker than was ever recorded in the Logs. Not even at Charm or the Stair of Tears was it this foul. The men know that the Council of the Jeweled Cities has shoved them out onto the end of a branch and sawn it off behind them. It smells of anger and frustration, of fury and purpose. It smells of mutiny, not against the Captain, but against the Jeweled Cities. It smells of revolution.

Ironbark may be about to break a contract for the first time, and I find myself in agreement with the men. This isn't about our duty to sworn contracts anymore. This is about our Duty to the people who look to us for protection, who stand with us in time of need. This is about Loyalty to the people who have become brothers in arms. This is about our Honor, our ability to look at ourselves when this is all over and not be ashamed of what we did.

To the bowels of the nine hells with the Jeweled Cities and their thrice-damned Council. Westmarch calls, and Ironbark will answer.

Chronicler Vian's Log

Seventeenth of September, Seven Hundred and Sixty Ninth year since the Seminal War

The after-action reports are piling in, too thick and fast to record each individually. Instead, I am forced to summarize.

The outermost outposts, closest to the Glacierheart mountains, were hit first. The Captain had deployed three platoons, three hundred men, to man the outposts and serve as pickets and scouts. Thirty-four came back, twenty-two of them wounded. The garrison lost another hundred men, mostly in rearguard actions. Fortunately, the fields in that area had already been harvested, and the animals driven back towards the fort. The orc Clans responded by burning down the farmhouses and raising their banners over the outposts.

If there is one shred of a silver lining to this cloud of despair, I did see one of the new recruits, a survivor from Sgt. Gork's Ur-hander squad, scribbling in a journal. I may have found a candidate for Apprentice Chronicler.

Aris Cretu's Journal

Seventeenth of September, Seven Hundred and Sixty Ninth year since the Seminal War

I had thought I had seen battle before today. It was but a skirmish. Today was real battle, real bloodshed. And much as I cursed Sgt. Gork in training, he knows his business. Our squad, plus the remnants of the other four in our platoon, were the only people to make it back alive.

I lost drinking mates today. Friends and rivals alike lie dead. Tam took a cut over one eye and lost her helm. They had to dump many buckets of water over Sgt. Gork to figure out if he was bleeding and where. How I came back unhurt is something of a wonder, even to myself. All I remember of the fight is stabbing, cutting, and running, only to do it all over again. I think I killed a few orcs, but I couldn't say how many. Nor can I keep any food down. I'll skip dinner and try to keep breakfast down.

I just hope my dreams will let me sleep.

Shaman's Records, Gathering of the Elders of Clan Glacierheart

Seventeenth of September, Seven Hundred and Sixty Ninth year since the Seminal War

Shaman Koroc the Singer of Clan Glacierheart recording.

Present are:

Shaman Elder Wolfbite Glacierheart, presiding Warlord Elder Lokk the Brutal Warlady Elder Vuggie the Vivid Warlord Elder Otab The Old

Wolfbite Galcierheart (WG): Can we just assume all of the expected pleasantries and gambits have been spoken and get on with this then? Not to put too fine a point on it, but the other shamans will need all of the help they can get tending to the wounded. Lokk, how did the first attack go?

Lokk The Brutal (LtB): Well, but not as well as I would have liked. We swept the pickets and scouts aside easily enough, but those outposts were rough. Two of them, the one to the east and the one in the west, were caught with their pants down when we came out of the mountains. We took out losses, but they went down in the end. The one in the middle of the valley though, they saw us coming, and were ready in time. It took three charges to force them back, and for warriors to come in from the outposts on the flanks, before they ran away.

Otab the Old (OtO): How bad were your losses? I Imagine Wolfbite has better numbers on how many of the wounded will make it, but let's hear your count first.

LtB: More then I'd like, not quite as bad as I'd feared. The head count is still ongoing, but of a thousand warriors, eight hundred or so came back alive. Vuggie, how about your scouts?

Vuggie the Vivid (VtV): All present and accounted for. We didn't lose anyone, not even hurt.

WG: The shamans report at least two hundred wounded, though they are still sorting the wounded from the dying. What did you bring back for food and loot?

LtB: Not nearly as much as I wanted to. We got a few wagons of food, plus the beasts pulling them. A few slaves. No gold or silver worth mentioning. The fields were already harvested, the houses already empty. They knew we were coming. We should have struck sooner!

OtO: We went over this Lokk. Any sooner and there would have been more warriors to oppose you instead of being busy harvesting their fields. It matters not. We are committed now, and the humans will have pulled back everything they can to their fort. Vuggie, it is time to unleash your scouts.

VtV: Pillage or ravage?

WG: Pillage. If they harvested the near fields that quickly, then the humans had to leave another area un-harvested.

LtB: Are we done here? I need to lead the victory celebrations.

WG: And I need to help tend the wounded, so unless there is anything else...? No? Then this Gathering has ended.

I read Shaman Elder Wolfbite's previous entry, so when the others had left, I cast the runes. As he had noticed, one rune fell into shadow, but three others came together in a most unusual fashion. The runes for human, orc, and war came together, but human and orc were in alignment, not opposed. When would humans and orcs ever stand on the same side in war? I can think of nothing that would inspire Clan Galcierheart to stand alongside humans.

Somewhere, a God is laughing at us, reveling in the blind paths we follow.

Chronicler Vian's Log

Nineteenth of September, Seven Hundred and Sixty Ninth year since the Seminal War

Our pickets are reporting orc scouts to the south of the fort now. The orc Clans must now feel that they have total mastery of the goat trails through the mountains. The Captain has detailed what men he can to protect the farmers, and the garrison has focused all of their efforts on pulling in as much of the harvest as they can. I fear it will be too little too late. About one-third of the harvest is in, which is enough to feed everyone over the winter, if only just. That set of calculations is based on the assumption that nothing further will go wrong. Ha. If reading (and now keeping) these Logs has taught me anything, it is that something will always go wrong. Plans never survive contact with the foe, and Ironbark is already in contact with the foe.

On another front, Aris (the recruit with the journal) looks to be a promising candidate for the position of Assistant Chronicler. But being so new, I think my lofty rank may intimidate him slightly, so I intend for Old Leon to make the initial approach. And if you are reading this Leon, yes, I did see your 'remembering' entry a few pages back. We could never make heads nor tails of some of the Logs of Innoch. He wrote them in elvish, but the runes in some sections look just a bit different, don't they? Still, the oral tradition of those Logs lives on, and Chronicler Rhineshield made more than a few references. If we do end up standing a long siege, then perhaps we could try once more to crack some of those old passages? But I digress. I shouldn't be wool-gathering like this before my thirtieth winter! Which is this upcoming winter, now that I think on it.

With the orc Clans encroaching on the southern farms, it won't be too long before Ironbark and the Garrison is pushed back into the fort itself. The only real questions are whether that will happen before the snow flies, and how much of the harvest the orcs will pillage or spoil in that same time.

Well, there is also the question of how the Westmarchers will welcome the Council troops when they eventually put in their 'unfortunately delayed' appearance. Current odds, according to the bet makers around the camp, are three to two in favor of accepting their 'help' against the orcs. I expect those odds to swing further in favor of defiance as the season drags on and more of the locals suffer hardship.

One other misgiving strikes me. What happens if the Council's troops encounter orc siege works south of the fort, and assume that the orcs have taken the fort?