Lord Ochen Shagari’s War Journal
First of November, Seven Hundred and Sixty Ninth year since the Seminal War.
All of the men have reported in, and the pre-march drills are nearing completion. We head north into Westmarch inside of the week. With such a preponderance of martial glory, we will sweep aside all who would stand before us!
But I am growing ever more concerned by the lack of proper scouts and skirmishers. As the prospect of combat grows ever nearer, I have sat down again and again with my minions staff officers and sought to forge battle plans. Time after time, we have been forced to rely upon what we knew when we set out on this campaign. Again and Again, we have come to the same conclusions, forged the same plans anew. The Westmarch garrison were but militia spear carriers, but a Mercenary company like Ironbark doesn’t survive for long without at least some intelligence. And despite all of their reported losses, they still have enough forces to be a nuisance. And there have been no more words on orcish raiders or warriors. Are the Glacierheart Clans going to sit this little revolt out, let we of the Jeweled Cities bleed ourselves crushing Ironbark and suppressing the Westmarchers before making a play of their own? This would be good for me, in that I could defeat my foes in detail one at a time. But also bad, for it would give the Glacierheart Clans time to gather their own strength, and drag out my march into the mountains far longer than I would like.
However, I cannot help but wonder if the Westmarches and orc Clans shared hatred of the Jeweled Cities will overcome their mutual distrust. If it does, and if the Army of the Jeweled Cities has no warning of their alliance, then we will be shoving our collective organs into a nest of irate hornets. I do not doubt that we would prevail in the end, but the cost is likely to be much higher and more painful in the doing.
The Serene Dominas of Sapphire have put their combined wealth and prestige behind this war, and have convinced the Dominas of Ruby and Opal to do the same. We of the Army of the Jeweled Cities cannot afford to come home with anything less than victory. I cannot afford to come home with anything less than victory. So why, in the darkest parts of the night, do I wonder if this is all a horrible mistake?
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Chronicler Vian’s Log
Fifth of November, Seven Hundred and Sixty Ninth year since the Seminal War.
The Army of the Jeweled Cities is moving much sooner than we anticipated, but not so soon as to catch us unprepared. The southern outposts are already stripped bare and abandoned. Several of the carpenters took time to weaken some of the beams and trusses before they left, which will prove an unwelcome surprise when the snow begins to fall in earnest. Fort Westmarch itself is being stripped of everything we can take with us in the next two days, which is why I write this entry in haste. The Ur-handers of Ironbark are already moving up into the goat trails, following the scouts and hunters of Wralady Elder Vuggie the Vivid. The Westmarch Garrison and the pikemen of Ironbark have fallen back to the northern outposts, the ones Clan Glacierheart fortified and developed, to help strip them bare as well.
As for the translation efforts of Shaman Koroc the Singer, they have proven more successful than I could ever hope. I am eager to learn what Chronicler Innoch wrote so long ago. Shaman Koroc has put forth a warning that there are sections that he will not translate, as attempting to do so nearly cost him a Shaman Initiate. The orc in question is now a full Shaman, but is markedly changed by the experience. I saw Shaman Mul in passing, as she followed our ur-handers up into the goat trails. She does look decidedly odd, and her battleax is a unique blade indeed. I would dearly love to record her tale, should she ever decide to share it.
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Aris Cretu’s Journal
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Seventh of November, Seven Hundred and Sixty Ninth year since the Seminal War.
Back up in the goat trails, and back with Sgt. Gork and the rest of my squad, my brothers in battle. Tam had made peace with the scar across her face and the attention some of the other men give her now that she has proved herself in battle. It is a hard thing, to grow up so fast, but she seems to be managing it well. Shaman Mul the Silent seems to have attached herself to Sgt. Gork’s squad. The Sargent seems to appreciate her presence, even at the cost of accepting her oddities. Having a healer along certainly couldn’t hurt!
Our orders are to wait three days before making any attack against the Army of the Jeweled Cities. After that, it is just Sgt. Gork’s squad and a small band of Warlady Elder Vuggie the Vivid’s scouts out on our own. The Ironbark Pikemen, Westmarch Spearmen, and Glacierheart Warbands are busy stripping the outposts (and the land) bare before the advance of our foe, so they will be delayed in joining our efforts.
I am slightly worried about Stg. Gork’s plan. We will be far beyond any support for quite some time, but we should also be hitting unescorted supply wagons first. We should be able to gather the food we need form our raids, but it is a risky strategy. High risk, higher reward. With any luck, we should be able to do some real damage before the rest of our friends get forward to join us.
The scouts are starting to beat the drums, signaling our march to battle, to war. Shaman Mul is beckoning me, inviting me to join her in singing one of the old clan-songs.
"Six winds blow as one / they will turn the tide. / We are marching on…" [1]
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Lord Ochen Shagari’s War Journal
Ninth of November, Seven Hundred and Sixty Ninth year since the Seminal War.
We have taken Fort Westmarch without a fight, along with the three outposts standing guard over the farms to the south of it. But I have a sickening feeling that my fears are real, and that I have placed the neck of the Army of the Jeweled Cities into a noose from which there is no easy escape. The first warning was the absence of worthwhile food store in Fort Westmarch. The harvest was obviously complete, and none of it has come south into Sapphire, so the stores here should be full. They are not, thus someone must have emptied them before we arrived. The second clue was the drill field. It was packed down to bare earth and as hard as flagstones, indicating a ferocious amount of feet had stamped across its length and breadth in recent days. More than the Westmarch Militia and the Ironbark company combined.
But the final clue, the one that confirmed my fears, was a note left pinned to the desk in the commander’s quarters. A drawing of three flags, the Westmarch crossed scythe and pike, the Ironbark tree, and an orcish glyph translating as ‘cold / frozen mountain.’ The words “We are coming, and hell comes with us.” Three daggers, one for each flag, pinned the note in place. One was of local make, one of good steel from beyond the Jeweled Cities, and one was simple stone with a bone hilt. Our foes have indeed united against us, and endeavor to make sure that none of us leave this valley alive.
I have already issued new orders. We cannot assume that our flanks are secured by the mountains and foothills along the sides of the valley, nor that our rear will go unthreatened. Accordingly, all of our supply wagons are to travel in escorted groups. Sentries will be posted to watch all sides, all angles of approach. And the logistics and siege Corps are to be tasked with putting up enough shelter to barracks the entire Army of the Jeweled Cities for the winter here at the fort.
I intend to make Fort Westmarch into a fortified supply base from which to strike into the Glacierheart mountains. It is clear that our foes have withdrawn their supplies and the bulk of their troop up into those peaks, so we must root them out. Winter will prevent the movement of large volumes of supplies and men, and also any large operations, so we must pass through the winter first. I also intend to write back to Sapphire reporting my success so far, and asking for more scouts and skirmishers. The goat trails that must wind though the sides of the valley will need cleared, or at least contested strongly, and formed pike men are not the right troops for the terrain. I will ask the drill masters if they can adapt any of the drills to focus on small-unit tactics and cramped terrain fighting. Perhaps the street fighting drills may prove useful? The goat trails must be narrower and more twisted than even the oldest sections of Sapphire, Ruby, or Opal, but we will have to begin somewhere.
Though I will admit it to no man alive, and certainly not to my minions staff officers or men, I can but hope that we are not bleeding too badly by the time we learn from my blunders thus far.