Chronicler Vian’s Log

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

Old Leon, Remembering

I remember when I first joined Ironbark. I was full of piss and vinegar, propped up by my bravado. I thought I was immortal, that nothing could kill me. Two weeks of training knocked that notion upside the head. But it was six long years of marching about to look impressive, garrisoning this town or crushing that rebellion for the lesson to really sink in. I had seen men die in those six years of course. Some of them were friends of mine, and I still hoist a glass in their honor every wintertide. Bergen, who was always so quick with a joke. Yigvar, the half-elven bastard who reveled in the mud he dragged his father’s name through. Croaker, the best healer I’ve ever known. I could go on, and on, and on, but I could fill the remainder of this Log and not name them all. I weep some nights for the men who joined Ironbark just before this war broke out. They do not get to learn in skirmishes and brawls, bit by bit as the years wear by. They will have to learn in the fires of battle and in the crucible of war. It will scar them as I never was, and I mourn their innocence lost.

But they have also brought a blazing fire to the beating heart of Ironbark. We had grown old and cynical in our advancing years. Hardened veterans of a dozen campaigns, we had seen everything the world could throw at us and vanquished it all. We would have simply marched away into the wilds when Sapphire stabbed us in the back, never to return. The new bloods did not just sigh and begin packing. They got to sharpening the smiles of their pikes. They glanced at the cynical calculations of cost and benefit, laughed in the face of simple survival. They saw a cause worth fighting for, the freedom of Westmarch and Glacierheart from the grasp of the greedy Serene Dominas of Sapphire, and were willing to slap us veterans in the face with it. ‘Are you so willing to save your own skin that you are willing to do this thing?’ they asked us. ‘Are you able to look yourself in the mirror, knowing you left women and children to be ground between the gears of empires? Because we are not. We will stand and fight, whether you stand with us or not.’ And they were right. The debate was fierce at first, but blew out inside of a day. We veterans looked into the mirror, or the bottom of our mugs, or the depths of our scarred souls, and found the embers there. Ironbark had been too long without a cause worth fighting for. I had been too long without a cause worth fighting for. Win or lose, this war is exactly what Ironbark needed. Even split into roving bands, our collective spirit burns bright once more. We are not fighting for pay this time. We are fighting because our honor demands it of us. Because our loyalty to our Company is stronger than our loyalty to a sundered contract. Because our Duty in these days is to protect the commoner from the tyrant.

Honor. Duty. Loyalty. The rust has been scoured away. The pikes gleam in the breaking dawn. Ironbark is awake, and she is angry.

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Shaman’s Records

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

Shaman Elder Wolfbite Glacierheart recording

The humans who have moved into our mountain homes have brought many ideas with them, even some notions worth listening to and thinking on. I look to our old huts and longhouses, and see their walls made tight against the wind, their rooves thatched anew against the impending snow. Firewood is being stocked to fuel the fires against the oncoming cold. Pits have been dug down to where the ground is ever-frozen to store roots, grains, nuts, and even smoked meat. Hunters and gatherers are out in force, orc and human alike, gathering what they can. Not just for the winter, but also for the lean times after the thaw. I admire the humans’ hard work and the innovative, even inventive, ways they approach any problem. More than that, I also appreciate the way that they are showing reverence for the land. They do not strip a plant bare, always leaving some to grow the next year. They do not slaughter entire herds of prey animals, always leaving some to multiply anew.

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And the humans miners and metal workers… the knowledge that they have brought with them and the techniques they use are pushing our production steadily higher. Our blades and tools are no longer made of simple wrought iron that needed repaired or replaced every year. By casting the metal, cooling and quenching it properly, it will last years. There is steady talk of getting ‘proper’ forges and furnaces up as soon as the weather allows to produce not only wrought and cast iron but steel. We always valued the tools we could pillage when we raided Westmarch, now we are learning to forge them for ourselves.

We have become more than just Clan Glacierheart in mind and body, now we are building our homes anew to match. Even after the humans go back onto their homes, they will have left their mark behind in the ally they have made and the trade partner they are so busy creating. Come the thaw and the summer, we will have land at the northern end of the Westmarch valley to grow crops. We will have the beginnings of mines and forges to make more tools and goods then we could possibly use. What we had to plunder and steal to get before, we will be able to trade for openly and honestly. The wider world may be set against us, for who in it has not heard of orc raiders? But we will have a friend in Westmarch, and perhaps we can make others in the fullness of time.

We have a war to win, and then a world to befriend.

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Lord Ochen Shagari’s War Journal

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

I should like to meet the leaders of this rebellion. I know not if I would shake their hand and swap stories with them over ale beside a fire or plunge my sword into their bellies and tear their guts out through their spine. Their timing is impeccable, their tactics inspired, and the fighting spirit of the men and orcs under their command is second to none. It hasn’t even been a week since we took Fort Westmarch and already my supply route in under continuous, savage attacks all along the length and breadth of the Westmarch valley. They have put us into a pocket and are working on sewing it shut behind us. We already have the food and drink needed to last the winter, if and only if we hunker down in Fort Westmarch and conduct no offensive operations before the snow flies.

But I worry that with every letter I receive from the Serene Dominas they will command me to do exactly that. Doing so would over-extend my men and my already dangerously thin supply lines. The fortified outposts to the north are almost certainly abandoned and stripped as barren as Fort Westmarch was. Taking them would be just as easy as taking the fort was, and just as deadly of a trap. The fort can just suffice to hold the entirety of the Army of the Jeweled Cities currently under my command, along with all of the attached support corps and the (inevitable) camp followers. Expanding to the northern outposts would ease the congestion here in Fort Westmarch, but at the cost of leaving those in the outposts exposed to surprise attacks, just as Clan Glacierheart (as I have come to call the orc clan) did to Ironbark. I have learned from Ironbark’s mistake, and will strive not to repeat it.

But if I want to save my supply lines, then I cannot wait on reinforcements that may never come. I will have to detail platoons to cover each convoy of wagons as they roll south, and again as they come north. This will whittle at my manpower and supplies, but what other choice do I have? I cannot pull back out of Westmarch without conceding defeat, nor can I risk pushing forwards and plunging my neck deeper into the trap. I will issue orders to those escorting platoons to protect the convoys. Their task will not be killing raiders, but driving them away and getting the convoys through alive and (hopefully) intact. This is a crucial difference: perusing raiders to destruction will pull men away from the convoys, weakening the escorts to follow-up strikes. Driving the raiders off and returning to protect the convoy will leave the raiders to try again, but also leave a strong escorting force in place to meet them every time they try.

Both methods have their advantages and disadvantages. Perusing the foe to destruction works best against raider bands operating alone because there isn’t another raider band waiting to swoop in as soon as the escorts are out of position. Settling for driving the raiders of works best when there are additional raider bands waiting to exploit any weakness. I will err on assuming the latter rather than the former. It will perhaps mean a slightly less favorable exchange rate over all, but each supply convoy should get through with fewer losses. I wonder how this tactic would work against pirates on the open seas? It is perhaps too expensive to use in all but the most dangerous waters, or in time of war, but should prove quite effective.

I can hear the drums in the night. Our foe is cunning, and he will not rest until he has claimed his prize or died in the attempt. I find myself in agreement with his aims, with my eyes set upon the same prize. Only one force will hold this valley when all is said and done. May the Gods grant me the victory.