Winterlands and Chill – Northern Alliance Lore

As winter and the festive season sets in, it’s time to settle down in front of a crackling fire with a warming Brew of Strength and tell of stories old. 

Chill

Deep in the Ice Mountains, on the frozen edge of the range known as the Howling Peaks, there stands an impossibility.

It is enchanting, awesome, dominating and incomprehensible in equal measure. Bridging a high valley between mighty sentinels of rock, stands the implausible city of Chill. It stands as a symbol of hope for the repressed and dispossessed. It is a home for the disenfranchised and the lost. Above all, it is a rallying point for those that wish to unite for something greater, and a bastion against the darkness in the world.

Early attempts to establish a permanent settlement as a base of safety and central operations for Talannar’s new alliance met with constant difficulties and set-backs. Providing a supply of traditional building resources became impossible due to weather and location, and raids from the orcs and goblins of Iceblood Fjord were a constant menace.

The threat became so great that the snow trolls tasked with the bulk of the foundational construction work were diverted instead to support the ogre mercenaries in a bid to hold off the invaders. Over a decade, many violent clashes resulted in ongoing delays and on two occasions, vast swathes of defences and building work was destroyed by greenskins breaking through the lines.

When scouts from the east began reporting the movement of a vast horde of greenskins swarming through the peaks and hell-bent on all-out war, the alliance braced itself for the worst. Several outposts were swept aside and contact lost with remote tribes. Refugees fled west, trying to keep ahead of the tide of orcs and goblins that boiled and seethed through the high passes and south through the wild tundra and plateaus of the northern Steppe. As the clansfolk fled towards Blackridge, the largest of the Alliance settlements, doom surrounded them from all sides. The clans fought back with fury, bolstered by packs of their vicious snow trolls and charges from their hulking frost-fang cavalry. But the green tide seemed endless, and slowly, inexorably, the orcs pushed on.

Retreat

At Talannar’s proclamation, the war room fell into incredulous silence before erupting into a cacophony of vehement objections and dismay. Exerting his full bearing and majesty, Talannar rose to his feet, dominating the room.

What Talannar said that evening, none in that room have ever spoken of. But the gathering emerged highly energised and with a steely and burning determination. Orders were given and the great mobilisation and retreat was put in motion. Talannar went ahead, taking the most powerful of the
ice queens and magi with him, preparing the path as much as they could.

The fighting retreat would be treacherous, and many would sell their lives dearly for the safety of the whole before the end. Scores of trolls were lost holding off an assault by goblins in the night as the alliance slowly moved up the Ygrituul valley and generations of clansfolk were lost when an avalanche swept them aside on the sides of the mountain known as the Laughing Man.

A New Home

Two months after the retreat began, with food running out and hope fading, the first of the Alliance reached their goal. And what a sight it was…

Many dropped to their knees in astonishment or disbelief; many more with exhaustion. All were filled with a sense of wonder and an intense feeling of belonging. Tears flowed freely.

Raised and made from the rock and ice itself, a majestic city stood before them, framed by the twin peaks of Usmund and Burgljot. A vast, glittering blue wall surrounded the construction and ran as far left and right as could be seen.

Beyond the wall, elegant spires and buildings could be seen and in the distance, at the heart of the city, rose an imposing and beautiful citadel, an enormous bastion of azure blue ice and jet black obsidian.

A Growing Power

In the comparatively little time that has passed since the construction of Chill, the Alliance has continued to build layers of defences around the city. Lines of watchtowers and outposts run throughout the Ice Mountains for scores of leagues in all directions.

With the support and stability of Chill, and the aid of the ice queens, many smaller settlements have been established, garrisoned and protected by the armies of the Alliance. None have the stature and majesty of Chill, but each is remarkable in its own right and these offer a welcome sanctuary for weary travellers.

After the greenskin invasion was defeated at the wall of Chill and the remnants pursued and ridden down, work quickly begun on securing and maintaining safer and more reliable roads into the city. Traders and merchants, while still at the mercy of the weather and bandits, now regularly make the journey to and from the city, watched by Alliance patrols. All return south with astonishing stories of the city and its wonders, still dismissed by many in their audiences as fanciful and exotic nonsense.

The birth of this new kingdom and its growing influence has not gone unnoticed. Talannar’s Northern Alliance must keep a constant vigil against those that would threaten it and seek to uncover its mysteries. Talannar is believed to have discovered a great and powerful secret in the frozen wastes, and jealousy, curiosity and fear in equal measure have led to a succession of skirmishes and outright conflict with the clans of the Varangur and others. The Basileans remain deeply unsure of this new but powerful ally against the wave of evil spilling into the world…