Shaman Mul the Silent’s Journal

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

It turns out that snow is rather fun when you don't feel cold. I've been wearing this ring for a while now, ever since my Awakening (I think), and I'm fairly sure it is a Ring of Warmth. Mostly it keeps things from getting too cold. I think the enchantment would keep food from freezing, for example, but wouldn't keep stew hot. For me, it means that I haven't had to use my heavy winter furs, which is nice. In turn, I'm not encumbered by heavy, restrictive clothing in a fight. I'm far more mobile than anyone else in Gork's warband as a result. Which is a very good thing in this case, because I can make the run back to the Clanholds up in the Glacierheart Mountains for more supplies faster than anyone else can given the foot of snow that fell overnight.

That doesn't mean that such a trip is without risk! I'm nearly the only person, human or orc, moving about in this storm, so I'm a clear target for anyone with a bow. Or I would be, if they could see me through the falling snow. I'm more worried about coming across a Clanhold sentry who is more inclined to shoot first and check later if I come walking in like a ghost out of the storm.

Gork's Warband is bunkered down in one of the northern outposts, which is more than a little risky, given that the Army of the Jeweled Cities has to be looking to take them over as soon as the weather clears. But with the snow falling this thick and fast, I somehow think that they will be staying home around warm fires. I wonder if that would let me slip a barrel or three of gunpowder somewhere important?

I need to get food and supplies to Gork's Warband first, then perhaps I'll get to play with explosives in a blizzard only I can't feel.

Lord Ochen Shagari's War Journal

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

The weather has turned. Snow now buries any hope of an advance before the spring thaw. Whatever the Serene Dominas may want, the Army of the Jeweled Cities is now in winter quarters. We should have sufficient food, drink, and firewood to keep us alive until then, but discipline is going to take a hit unless measures are put in place in advance. If I allow them men to simply sit indoors, then they will get cabin fever staring at the walls all day long. Tempers will flare, inter-city rivalries will spawn fights, and blood will be spilt. Already, I have my minions staff officers thinking about what exercises we can do in the winter, snow or no. We do have winter uniforms and I would not be opposed to practice marches and drills in the spaces between storms. If each barracks is responsible for digging itself out, that should also help to burn off energy.

Perhaps I will contemplate taking over one of the outposts if we do get a long enough break in the weather, if only to give my troops a destination to march to and from outside of Fort Westmarch. The outposts to the south are too incomplete to provide winter quarters if a platoon or company is caught by an oncoming storm. I certainly don't expect the Westmarchers or Ironbark to be particularly winter-mobile. The Clan Glacierheart orcs may be slightly more mobile, if only from their experience living in the mountains. Still, a foot of snow on the ground should slow them down, give my men time to see them coming and react accordingly.

Reth Nakima’s Journal

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

Damn and blast this infernal weather. All of the convoys, northbound and southbound, have been forced off the road into whatever shelter we can find. Thank the Gods for this barn not too far from the high road. The snow is already heavy enough on the ground that I don't even want to think about when we can get back moving again. But we're going to have to before our food runs out. We'll probably head back to Fort Westmarch. It's closer, so we can get there faster.

The one good part about this weather: if that wagonload of gunpowder isn't under cover at the moment, it's ruined. Probably. Hopefully.

I can hardly feel my toes and fingertips. I hope they don’t fall off when if it gets any colder.

Aris Cretu's Journal

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

This is perhaps the worst storm I have even had the misfortune of being caught in. That's counting both at sea and ashore, including the gale of 767. The one that tore most of the docks out of the ground, smashed two of the piers, and flooded almost a third of Sapphire. I was ashore for that one, having just docked at Lady SiDabolo's tower. I remember ducking when the mast was ripped out of the footing by a gust. Between waiting for the storm to clear and repairing the boat I didn't get back to Sapphire for a week after that.

This blizzard is worse. Much worse. A typhoon might drown you, but at least rain flows away after it hits. This snow is sticking to everything. It's already up to my knees and only getting deeper. I know Shaman Mul isn't affected by the cold or the snow like the rest of us, but… I hope she's ok.

We do have the gunpowder under a solid roof. No point in trying to haul it up into the Glacierhearts in this weather though. We could make some sleds and find some tarps or something, but we'd have to leave over two-thirds of the barrels behind. Plus, I'd probably get lost in the storm. Shaman Mul may be used to navigating with no visibility, and some of Warlady Elder Vuggie the Vivid's scouts could do the same, but there is no point in risking it. Not yet at least. We're too close to Fort Westmarch for my comfort, but the weather should keep everyone there hunkered down.

Tam keeps talking about making up an Ironbark Company standard and putting it up the flagpole, just to piss off the Army of the Jeweled City. Not exactly a brilliant idea, given the odds stacked against us if they do decide to send anyone our way, blizzard or otherwise. Might be worth it just for the laughs and to keep us busy.

Shaman's Records

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

Shaman Koroc the Singer of Clan Glacierheart recording

The snows have come early and heavy this winter. The silence in the time before the dawn is especially quiet now that the wind has stopped howling. The falling snow formed white sheets in the air and mounded into drifts in every sheltered corner it could find. The animals have all either found their winter sleeping places, or flown on to warmer lands. But we Glacierhearters, Westmarchers, and Ironbarks cannot rest, nor can we leave this place. We may be slowed down for a time and forced to rest while the snow falls. But we cannot, must not, allow any chance to bleed the Army of the Jeweled Cities dry to slip through our fingers.

The council of Elders, in alliance with the Leadership of the Westmarchers and Ironbark, debate on this matter constantly. They look for ways to provoke our foe into doing something rash, to get him to come out from behind his walls for just long enough. Our foe is no fool though. He knows as well as we do what the snows mean. He also knows that he has more resources, more men and weapons and gold, to call upon then we can muster. Come the thaw, we will be breaking ground for new mines and forges, but the Jeweled Cities will be able to send forward new units already armed by their existing workshops before we can stand up new warbands of our own.

The chance of a short war has already come and gone: there will be no victory before the snow flies for either side. But if the long war, the one that depends on how much a side can make, how many men and orcs they can arm and feed in the field, also does not favor us, then what hope do we have of winning? We win the winter war. The men of Westmarch and Ironbark may be slowed by the snow, but they can learn from us Glacierhearters. We can strike at the Army of the Jeweled Cities and force them to use up supplies that they cannot easily replace now that the snows have begun to fall. There can be no pitched, open field battles with this much snow on the ground; man and orc alike would freeze in their boots waiting for everyone to get into position. So we must make this winter the season of raiders, of daggers in the darkness. It is not an honorable way to fight, but this war was never honorable. Mother Nature and the Worldfather play no favorites. All sides in this fight must make the best use of what time that they are given.

Editor's Notation:

The winter storms of 769 are some of the worst in recorded history for the area, particularly in terms of the depth of snow that they left on the ground and the frequency with which they occurred. Scholars with an interest in magic, myself included, have long made note of these storms and the magical disturbances which preceded them during the last half of 768 and in early 769. The sundering of the Garonian Wayshrines and the fall of the Temple of Storms in Kakariko may be related in some way, but none of the individuals whose writings are included in this work knew anything about those events. I mention them here only to point out possible global connections aside from the disruption in the economies and trade patterns of the Jeweled Cities.