Proclaimed in the Barony of Mordenvale, where the land lies fair and the hearts lie bold.
“And lo, when the season turned and the scent of spring rode high upon the breeze, the folk of Lochac did once more muster arms, banners, and ambitions alike. No realm was free from stirrings. No hearth untouched by talk of war or wonder.”
To all nobles, gentles, and wayward hearts — let it be known that Spring War shall be held once more in the fields of Mordenvale.
Let those who thirst for glory ready their arms,
Let those who seek wisdom bring their crafts,
Let those who long for revel come with empty cups and full spirits.
There shall be:
Deeds of war — by blade, bow, and boldness,
Tests of speed and trials of skill,
Markets and music, laughter and lore,
Feasting, fellowship, and tales worth the telling,
All this under sun and stars, with bread at the table and song in the air.
Peace may yet be brokered. Or broken.
The tale is not yet writ — but you may help pen the lines.
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