Lore References
Scattered throughout the regions are little pieces of notes and information that gives clues about the Foxhole world, as well as easter-eggs and locations within the game itself. New notes are put into the game occasionally by the developers, and can be found in game by players.
This page consists of lore text pieces as found in and around the game. Some larger pieces, such as elaborate locations, have their own articles as well, where some background information is given as well. Interesting locations without text can be found in Landmarks.
Warden Home Region
Callahan Statue

You are among the elite.
Sharpen your skills, test your might.
Strive for glory and lead by example.
Become a Hand of Callahan and fight back the Colonial menace.
Colonial Home Region
Supply Report

We know they haven’t the manpower to defend. I suggest requisitioning twice the usual volume and pressure these outliers back into the fold. Send men out to patrol. We’ll need these supplies if we intend to continue our push on the mainland.
Basin Sionnach
A Brief History of Caoiva Vol. II

These clans, brought together by founder Iain Callahan, have fought hard to protect Caoiva’s sovereignty as a nation, despite ever constant attempts from the souther colonizers to usurp her independence. This process, derived from ancient peace times. This includes taking on increase responsibility upon the death of a fellow councillor or Archon.
In the event of a fallen Archon, a councillor is selected as deputy and assumes temporary power immediately upon confirmation reaching Whedon’s Row. This power may be vetoed at the Witan’s unanimous discretion. Such a provision is necessary to ensure none may usurp the Archon’s chair without backing from the Witan.
Interestingly, there has only been a single sitting Archon, not bearing the Callahan or Mercy name. That was the founder of the country’s western Gem, Duncan MacConmara. His sitting, short-lived as it was, represents a tumultuous period in the country’s history, as he led the Wardens to defeat in the battle for Sunhaven which shattered the region and saw the country’s capital overtaken by a young Velian commander who outsmarted the man at every turn.
It was the sitting councillor, “Powderkeg” Jon Barrony, whose command held the Velian Colonials in the north, who signed the agreement with the Nevish Monarchy, which would later form the basis of the Nevish Alliance.
Speaking Woods
Cult Activity

It would appear we have reports of a blood cult active in the north. We’re not sure who they are or what their motives are, only that they’ve managed to lure many young Wardens into their ranks. One witness reports these cultists laying out their comrades and assembling their corpses in strange shapes. Upon further inspection, we believe they’re aligned with the stars, namely the burning arrowheads.
These zealots are dangerous, hidden, and seemingly rabid in their lust for violence. Their targets have been primarily Warden and Watchers. We’ve seen no victims of any other class, nor do they appear to maim their own.
We believe they’ve forsaken the Sun and are making sacrifices to much older gods. This rhetoric cannot spread or it will lead to even further instability in Caoiva.
Callum's Cape
Grave of Niall Callum

The King of the Cape, His majesty Niall Callum rests peacefully.
He is succeeded by his four daughters, his loyal subjects, his people, and his legacy. May his great fortress city remain impenetrable until the wind carries away the last grains of dirt and snow. And may no other king lay claim to the Throne Upon the Cape.
Exhumed Corpse

A shard of rotten wood is lodged in its chest.
The headstone implies the grave is for Callum’s eldest daughter, Mary, who famously withered away, sick in bed without eating for months, turning pale before ultimately perishing.
A sad story, you think to yourself. Sadder still that her remains would be desecrated, so.
Old Ledger

First, the mine doesn’t appear to be sending its output to Caoivish sources, which, given the territory, you find strange. The name of the destination is obviously obfuscated, only referred to as “Omega”. It’s quite curious for what appears to be a pretty standard mining operation.
Second, several personnel in this file are also listed under codenames. Dog, Falcon, Wolverine, etc. Perhaps everything was above board, perhaps not. It no longer matters, anyhow. It’s been a long time since anyone worked this mine.
Reaching Trail
Meat Facility

Curious Poetry

The sands of time have turned to flies.
It's no gift, but a garish curse, the machine always seems to run.
Who tells tall tales? it is not I, my brethren are plump with lies.
Why shoot the messenger?
But I know you will, Callahan always takes my gun.
Shocking Massacre

The blood has long since dried, the corpses frozen for many moons, yet curiously, the coals in the fire still smoulder.
Almost as if someone had spent time here recently.
Cara's Rifle

Small cuts are marked into the stock. This rifle cannot be cleaned. This rifle cannot be loaded. This rifle will not fire. It's too light. Blood pours out from the barrel when the trigger is squeezed.
You feel it must be cursed and aren't sure why you still carry it.
Clanshead Valley
A Brief History of Caoiva Vol. III

Long before the Breaking, an event which saw our country founded, each territory was controlled by individual clans. These families held sovereignty over borders that were often contested by the neighbouring clans. This internal conflict fortified our ancestors, made them strong and hardy, as those who fell short of their duty quickly fell prey to ambitious kings.
This only tells part of the tale. Some clansmen filled their coffers by making deals with the so-called “Golden Empire” of Mesea. It’s believed that the famed Callum’s Keep was funded almost exclusively through deals that saw ancestors of the Callum family sending foot soldiers and warships to aid in foreign conquests, while bearing promises of backing should war break out across Caoiva.
This part of the page is filled with markings and notes. One underlines the words “Golden Empire” with the notation, “Truth???” above it.
Whatever deals were made between Mesea and the Callum family must have soon been forgotten, for as war found its way to Callum’s doorstep, they cut off the seas with their great fleets and closed their gates, becoming more insular than ever. This ultimately allowed the family to maintain independence, even after Callahan had united the clans of Caoiva.
Missing Rocket

Hey Puck,
There’s not much going on over here, so I thought this one might give you a laugh.
We shot one up into the sky, and it never came back. We followed all the steps and entered the calculations coming in over the radio. Sure, they weren’t simple, but it wasn’t anything we hadn’t been through a hundred times before.
Sorry, I’ve gotten ahead of myself. My unit was dispatched to coordinate the launch of a long-range ballistic missile. Truly a standard operation without much excitement to speak of. We coordinated with a team of spotters through a command center operating out of a nearby base. Every input seemed correct, and yet we lost the rocket.
It just… disappeared into the sky. I’d always thought the sky was a dome, but now I don’t know what to believe.
What do you think?
—Cpl. Theo “Artemis” Low
Nevish Line
Railway Worker Radio Transcript

Erich: Crockett! Why aren’t these finished yet? We’re months behind schedule at this point, tracks coming out of several locales are yet incomplete. We need these systems up and running yesterday.
Crockett: Sir.
— There’s a prolonged pause.
Erich: That’s not an answer to my question. Or any question.
Crockett: May I speak plainly, sir?
Erich: Is that not what I’ve asked of you?
Crockett: Do you see men working the line?
Erich: Quit answering my questions with questions and get to it.
Crockett: *lets out a long sigh* There are no men. We’ve too little manpower and not enough resources. It’s just been me and Davis for the better part of the year. We make what strides we can, but requests for aid have been denied. I suspect—
Erich: This is absurd. Have you made copies of the requisition forms?
— Footsteps are followed by paper shuffling.
Erich: This is from back in Lunarly!
Crockett: Sure is. I’ve sent out requests near weekly since.
Erich: Blazing stars, what a mess.
Crockett: What would you have us do, sir?
Erich: Stay posted, keep up the work, I’ll see what can be done. Something isn’t sitting right here, that’s for sure. You’re a good man Crockett. This is respectable work given the circumstances.
Crockett: I appreciate that, sir. But frankly, this is worse than a mess. It’s a disgrace.
Erich: *sighs*
The Moors
Veteran's Letter

Where in the hell is that? You’re being deployed to some to some backwoods town? Why do they call it that anyway? It’s probably frozen most of the year, who’s bringing boats?
I wish you could answer me as I write but I know it’ll be some time, maybe years before I hear back. They’re making me a prosthetic metal leg and once I learn to walk properly, they might send me back out. I’m excited. Feels like I just got started when I got caught by that mine.
The break has been… fine, but like you said back when it happened, “You are Mesean, your blood is gunpowder, trenches are your home, the dirt your soft downy pillow. Life is too short to waste working the fields or toiling away at a machine belt.”
Then you said something crass about my mother and that’s where my memory gets fuzzy. Once I get back out there, you bet your ass I owe you a stiff drink.
Trench Bath

Old Transcript

Can we not assault from the sea? It’s my understanding that there’s a wide open shore.
Do not underestimate the Caoivish, Consul. If you think that they haven’t adequately prepared for this, you’d be mistaken.
Damn, they’re like roaches. What do you suggest then, Commander?
We should leave them to their mountains! There’s no value in Whedon’s Row. We’ll starve them out and they are forced to emerge, Caoiva will be Mesean soil.
Hand-Delivered Letter

If the Caoivish Wardens make allies out of them, that would be bad news for us. But if we cut off the pass, we can stop that from happening. Or better yet, discredit them. They aren’t known to make deals on a whim.
Hidden Message

You said you would meet me here and we’d travel north to take the long route to Morgen’s Crossing. Don’t you remember? People are gathering there.
I’ve been waiting for days, and still, you haven’t arrived. Combat is breaking out in this region. I can’t wait any longer. I’ll try to wait in Morgen’s Crossing. Hopefully the fighting doesn’t make it that far. It doesn’t help matters that I’ve got a target on my back from both sides.
Inner Dialogue

History Book

Rusty Sabre

A shame to see such exquisite craftsmanship left to rust.
Viper Pit
Viper's Skull

This stone, as it sits, has done before us all, and will remain forever and beyond.
Letter From the Office of the Archon

You open a letter from Whedon’s Row.
From the office of the Archon.
Judith Abell,
These pirates must be dealt with. It’s bad enough that such sensitive Warden intel has leaked, but now we’re dealing with gutless cowards too. Did you know they’re mostly deserters, the Hanged Men? I’d like to get a noose around their necks myself.
Now I’m hearing that you’re tearing apart our arsenal and fitting them with . . . with what? It seems like a buffoonish vanity project to me. The Archon is not pleased and expects a full report explaining why resources have been spent on nonsense. It would behoove you to act quickly, lest he sends the Hands. Were it a Callahan in the chair, you might have your requests placated, but alas.
Stop acting impetuously, Judith, or you will forfeit your position. There are plenty of sharks in the sea.
Morgen's Crossing
Deserter's Message

The final page keeps your attention.
This is where the journey ends, I’m afraid. But only for you, dear reader. Not for Morgan and I, no. By now we’ve gotten on our little boat, and found some island to call home.
When our daughter was born, it only reinforced our desire for safety and peace. There are things you will be told that will get you killed. Do not entrust your blood and bones in the hands of those who seek to make a puppet out of you. If given the chance, they will oblige, and do so without releasing the strings.
There are good folk who want nothing more than to build a new world, together;a new society, away from whistling bullets and deafening screams. They would take up the sickle and hoe before lifting a rifle ever again. They wish to hear the laughter of children and music on the wind. If these notions appeal to you, do not give into fear.
In spite of themselves, these puppeteers have used us to construct a society that preys upon the doubts of the many to serve at the whims of the few. Senators and Magisters are not standing on the front lines to hear the wet crunch of bones when stray fire finds their comrade’s skull. They are not having limbs removed and replaced just as fast so they can continue to march. When was the last time an Archon stood next to his troops?
Enclosed in these pages, I have transcribed all that I know. I am imperfect. I have likely made some mistakes, but trust that I came by it honestly, and I only seek to dispel the fog that has shrouded us all.
So please, look to the stars, and seek your peace.
If ever we should meet, I will welcome you in with open arms.
Mesean Senate Notes

You skim the top.
1005
Magisters Prime
Falax Natvia - M
Deimos Leventis - V
Rogier Auclair - K
Lucida Silvanus - M
Amethystus Tullia - M
State Consuls
Iupiter Curia - M
Eris Maro - V
Guion Bassett - K
Altan Sydin - Mi
Hacer Ersoy - A
Paaka Vaha'akolo - LF
Oktai - AU
Gota Novar - Es
Mil Máscaras - Wo
Guntur Khor - P
Janus Licinia - Ai
Paolo Colon - TP
Gaius Evander - NM
Bhoj Sidhu - SW
Ramiz Gjergji - X
Alvaro Vaaz - Pr
The document continues on to list several lesser dignitaries.
Nevish Alliance Notes

…mainly the Archon, Fionn Mercy, who held a millennium celebration—a fair of all things—outside of the Fastness. This was, at best, childishly optimistic, and resulted in the largest riots the alliance had ever seen.
Prince Jarvi, Mercy’s childhood friend and Nevish commander-in-chief, egged on the celebration, even donating to its excess. Millennium or no, Mercy’s homeland is overrun by southern troops, and his soldiers go to war in his name, while he and his cohort drink and feast like unfettered royals.
This pair does not obey the tenets that the alliance was formed upon, and furthermore, catastrophic events such as these undermine the foothold we’ve gained in Caoiva and abroad. Our allies will be scrutinizing Mercy now, or worse, and the prince? He might well be the heir, but perhaps he hasn’t studied his histories closely enough.
This is all to say we must better guide this new generation, for I fear all will fall into chaos and history will repeat itself.
- Percival Baronny, 12 Hawk, 1000.
Stonecradle
Mother's Letter

In your last letter, you said you’d already pledged, so I know it’s too late. But we can run. We can leave this land. Find a way out. A way to live. Come home.
The rest is, unfortunately, lost.
Journal of a Legatus

8 Cos, 782.
It’s a crisp morning here. I fear I’ll never grow accustomed to this northern weather. In many ways, I admire them. All these years, all they’ve built and to deal with those horrid winters . . .
My work of late has been no less frigid. These children are hopeless. If they can’t be trained they should be put to work. Yet, here I am, wasting away, drinking myself to an early grave with these whelps who can barely tell which way to hold a rifle.
I’m getting old, too old for this war, to be sure. This war that’s bellowed and cooled. I fear I’ll not see its end. A shame, as I’d hoped to see it through.
Schematic Notes

It’s not ideal to entirely replace the axle, though you may think it necessary. We’ve built adapters that work with the existing axles so that when you fit the new part, the leverage is sound.
There’s a crude drawing of how the adapter fits with several scribbled arrows.
Now, as for how we plan to maximize space in the wagon? They’re built to come off peacefully. Then we can haul in a whole new fitting. Whatever the engineers want to try. It’s easy stuff, but worth noting that the chassis can only handle so much weight, so tell the guys to give’r a test before going all out.
Pete, if anyone bothers you about this, tell ‘em to talk to Ms. Abell. It’s her project. Don’t argue if they demand you stop, just get her out here, and she’ll clear it up. No one wants to see your guys get shot.
Callahan's Passage
Lochan Depths

A pang of terror runs through your spine, and you blink the vision away. They are still, frozen and lost. To be reminded of this brings you no comfort.
Weathered Expanse
Manuscript Page

This captain, as well as the livestock, froze to death. It’s said that when the ice cleared and winter passed, the ship sank to the depths of the ocean.
One by one, the surviving crew died of pneumonia. Months, even years after they lost the Burgundi, each crew member would fall ill until there were none alive.
No one would tell me the captain’s true name. Even the thought of it seemed to scare them.
Snow-Caked Sign

The sight of it chills you. Best leave soon or you’ll share the sign’s fate.
Sign to Frostmarch

Only, there is no town. Nothing more than a name.
Ice-Caked Sign

Inner Dialogue

Musings of a Deserting Soldier

If Maro were alive to see what a farce his namesake has become, he'd have begged to swallow that bullet.
The Oarbreaker Isles
Hollow Book

Inside you find a hole carved out between the pages, revealing a generous amount of dried jerky bound with cedar twine. It smells delicious, but you know it’s worth too much to consume. Though your hunger might betray you.
It’s been ages since you’ve smelled decent meat.
Mouldy Old Journal

Some say he rides on horseback, a blood red mare with its head flayed, exposing polished bone. Apparently, his ship, The Burgundi, was stranded in the north filled with cavalrymen and a cargo hold filled with horses and other livestock...
Letter About the Lighthouse

We need that lighthouse for our ships coming to port from Katoma, they don’t call these islands the Oar Breakers for nothing. If you could send a couple more hands our way, I’d appreciate it.
The Linn of Mercy
Explorer's Journal

It’s filled with indiscernible drawings of what appear to be maps, each marked with an X. Some are paired with another strange symbol. Scrawlings fill the blanks, but you can only make out one paragraph near a map you recognize as the Vale.
. . . The Hanged Men, it must be them. Who else? It yields to nothing I’ve tried thus far. Small arms are useless. We’ve tried setting a hefty charge, and the damn thing hardly creaked. If we could only find something from before.
Those made in the ways of old, they had more kick. Yes. That crater, to this day I’ve not seen another like it. Find them, yes. A hefty payload, a hefty treasure.
Sunflower Girl

Sunflower petals brush at your feet in the wind. You pluck a flower at the stem and set it before the girl, compelled by the dancing yellow sea.
There’s an inscription on the statue’s base. You read it.
Lost in flames, we are protected by the Sun,
Our gods need us more than a war needs won.
We stand by their side, watching down from the stars,
Praying for our kin, near and afar.
From the Sun’s embrace, we hold in our hearts,
The end of the fight is not far from the start.
Let there come peace when the Sun burns on hot,
Bring us your love when you meet us in thought.
We are the ones who did not grieve;
We are the ones who only believed;
We are the ones for whom you beg for reprieve;
We are those who have been denied,
A flame snuffed soon, yet our souls defied.
Tell us your tales, but be forewarned,
We march alongside the memories you’ve mourned.
Marban Hollow
Engineer's Notes

Notes fill the margins, but only one in particular catches your interest.
The internal vaults should and will hold fast against conventional methods. It would take a concentrated force to break through, considering they’ve reinforced it with slabs and braided metals.
Ordinary munitions would do little more than chip the concrete. Only those versed in proper demolitions would have a chance at breaking through. Of those, there aren’t many these days.
Our take should stay safe. Well, at least for a time.
Godcrofts
Old Flask

Hollow Book

Inside you find a hole carved out between the pages, revealing a generous amount of dried jerky bound with cedar twine. It smells delicious, but you know it’s worth too much to consume. Though your hunger might betray you.
It’s been ages since you’ve smelled decent meat.
Skeleton

Island Outhouse

Old Map

Despite the damage, you notice something peculiar. Various locations are marked by a black X.
Farranac Coast
Abandoned Shelter

Letter to Juno

How much longer do we let this continue? What's even left to fight for? Love, please write back to me. I must know that you’re safe. I'm leaving Terra as soon as is feasible. It'll be some time before I make it back to Kálokai but there's a barge coming along on which I mean to stow away.
This cock of a war, I yearn for you to see its end;I’m afraid I will not be so lucky. The lad who carried my letter, he’s trustworthy. He'll get whatever you entrust with him back to me. He knows the plan.
Please, enjoy the wine, I nearly died for it.
Kisses,
Christos
You guess that the letter never made it to Juno.
Messy Table

Scattered around the book are several tattered yet undelivered letters. You suspect most were intended to reassure loved ones about the state of the war.
Journal of a Deserting Soldier

I left this war as a high ranking member of the Swords of Maro. I promise, this is not in jest. It was heartbreaking. That company was all I had. To me, they’re family. Even today, I’d die for any one of them. But I learned there is life outside of war. You’ll soon find it too.
On my travels, a man taught me some Velian history. Our once great country struck a deal with Mesea hundreds of years ago. Did you know we once had a king? A Kingdom? The Caoivish are no better. Their greed is what forced us Velians into desperation. Their wall. Their need for control.
I'm not interested in fighting a war of opportunity. Are you?
I’ve met a girl. And, I know what you’ll try to tell me.
But what if? Why not? I’d like a life with her. A simple one, away from war. Would you turn down warmth in your bed? A fire to come home to? A home at all? It’s a risk worth taking.
We're headed north to Nicnevin. It’s through rough terrain where, hopefully we won't be followed. We mean to take the pass through Morgen's Crossing. A bit of an inside joke so we didn’t want to miss it.
If you arrive at the Crossing, you may find us and I hope that you do. Know that you have friends in the north.
Follow the stars.
Old Grave

Old Grave

Cave Tally

You suspect it was used to count days or to tally something.
Tent Notes

Yes, you shit, they do. Oh, enough with the look. It was a bloody tank!
Some words are scratched out.
Ugh. It’s a game of body count. You’d get a point If you’d nicked the crew. It was a parked tank, you cheat.
Several arrows point to the word nothing which is emphasised by scratchy underlines.
How is that fair? So you’re telling me, you can count an injured Collie and it’s okay?
Fine. You get one point. But you need to stop cheating Cara, otherwise this shitty game is no fun.
Inner Haven Vol. 2

She was a visionary. None could have imagined how well she’d live up to and perhaps surpass her great grandfather's legacy. Naysayers and experts in the senate claimed that Warden inner defences were impenetrable, a folly to pursue. Yet, our glorious commander proved them wrong with her unconventional strategies and radical tactics.
To no surprise, she would go on to be awarded a seat on the high council representing Veli for her valor and bravery. It stunned the republic when Maro refused, opting instead to remain on the battlefield.
All of Mesea—and Veli most of all—should feel blessed to have such a dedicated and capable commander leading the Colonial Legions toward our inevitable victory.
For The End, Is Our Glory.
The Deadlands
Sunhaven Sign

There comes a time when even our wise father Sun craves hearth and home.
- Iain Callahan.
Lost Scout

Those southron bastards actually had the balls to march. We'd heard they might be buggered enough make a move, the cunts, but even with all I’d seen, I wouldn't have thought they’d had the sacks for it. Those fucking greencoats couldn't keep their dicks tied up and just had to march north.
Some good that giant bloody wall did. I pissed on it before the boys and I trucked back to Sunhaven. Those pricks're coming, though. Gather the mules and get the girls to Whedon's Row. Stars take me if we can't hold here.
Love, Uncle Sean.
NSRF Letter

Under the letter, there’s a paycheck from the NSRF to the same addressee.
Callahan Statue (East)

Caoiva's founder and first Archon, Iain Callahan, united the land with the promise of riches, safety, and bountiful harvest.
It was with his left hand that he offered our foes gifts of friendship, alliance and protection.
Callahan Statue (West)

…instilled fear with his right hand.
With it he commanded vast armies and raised his shield for the good of all…
The rest is obscured.
Hospital Desk

I worry I’ve developed a martyr complex, killing meself to try to help those doomed the day they were born. Perhaps we all are. Perhaps I’m doomed to this damned orphanage. Irony is, it’s kids here that die the most. Suppose I tried, ey.
Sign
Rail Work Instructions

Once your men lift the tracks, ensure most of the rubble and refuse gets cleared. Don’t dawdle on this. Reclamation of the old train Boneyard remains a top priority, but it means nothing if we can’t bring in new locomotives.
We know not how long these quiet days will last, and don’t mistake silence for victory. The Deadlands are not ours, but should we have any hope of holding it, we need the resources found within the scrap metal of the Boneyard. Send an envoy to Whedon’s Row once the job is done. Ensure a loyal messenger, ears and eyes are everywhere.
Archon Mercy will be sending the Hands to oversee the delivery of experimental weaponry out to the coast. We can’t give the enemy time to react. We suspect they are aware of our intention to field these weapons, so our distribution plans have been kept under lock and key. Even I know only the necessary details.
Between us, I’ve heard rumours that engineers work tirelessly on production efficiencies to once again field heavy armour, which explains the investments into rail infrastructure.
I’m getting off-topic and my ribbon is running dry. Get the work done early and I’ll have a few bottles of that Picarian butter rum waiting for you.
- TKM-III
Endless Shore
Somber Note

There's a smear of ink between lines.
We've stood side by side since we were children. Trained together for years on, only to watch him put a bullet in his head. Everything's heavy now, I am underwater, I can't breathe. It's been days, and I'm still here. Getting hungry, haven’t eaten in days. But, I can't leave him. He fears the night. What would he do without me? Besides, I just want to stare out into the sea. At least I'll always have that, eh, Jackson?
There are two ragged sunflowers carved into the bark.
Sign

Someone scratched in some illegible letters. It's hard to tell what it means.
→ Saltbrook Channel.
↑ Vulpine Watch.
Vandalised Plaque

Fisherman's Row
Hand Carved Figures

You get the impression someone designed them for game of sorts.
Mouldy Letter

Nothing in there but iron. Though, I heard some of the boys mention gold below sea level. Suppose you'd want to be informed if we’d found anything valuable.
The island fell quickly, for what it’s worth, but this brutish woman managed to escape. She led at least a dozen refugees through far side of the mine. Seems the workers had built a hidden alcove oceanside and loaded up supplies for months.
We're still not sure where they got the boats, however. Perhaps she cut a deal with those petty smugglers, the Hanged Men. Once they'd pushed off, the damned rebels collapsed the mine with explosives. Unfortunately, we couldn’t cut them off. Credit to them, it was a well laid out plan.
We'll send word to our men at the coastline to keep an eye out.
Ragged Journal

On and on she went, talking about getting a ship and backup and saving us — Blah blah. I didn't believe her. In fact, I was sure she'd die on her way out. Boyo I was wrong.
She pulled a knife from this dumb Collie's belt, slit his throat and gutted the wanker next to him. It was like watching a bloody dance. After they fell, she scooped up a rifle and hid in the back of a truck. The numpty waved at me from behind a few crates. After all that nonsense, I'm not so sure she is a liar, after all.
Maybe I stand a chance to get off this wretched island before I croak.
Church's Grave

Here lyes Church.
He wuz a good boy.
An flufy 2.
Inner Haven Vol. 1

Groomed from birth, an expert tactician with exceptional natural gifts, Thea exercised swift and decisive leadership. It was her will that brought us to the heart of Caoiva.
Maro offered the northerners peace, on the condition of joining our great republic. Such a distinction would have been an honour, yet they spit in our faces and call us dogs. If only they'd laid down their arms, we may have avoided generations of bloodshed.
For The End, Is Our Glory.
Loch Mór
Sign
Inner Dialogue

The field surrounding you, now overgrown and wild, was once the staging ground for an ancient battle. Horrors have been committed here and will be committed again. The futility weighs on you.
You laugh at the irony of it all. Why did these men die in such a grisly fashion, if, after all this time, war rages on?
Journal of a Legatus

21 Temple, 783.
Those bastards in the Senate. All this anger, with no place to air grievances, save these trusted pages. How could they think to retire me? With so much to be done. So much left on the table. After all, I’ve done for them, for Mesea, in Aktío and now Veli.
Do these past decades mean nothing? Does standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Silas Maro in the ruin of that dreadful wall mean nothing? No. Early retirement is my reward. And for what purpose? Shall I retreat to the country, ripen in some crumbling estate, clutching my rifle like a child? This is not how I end.
Rusty Shovel

They tell us to stand,
So we stand.
They tell us to fight,
So we fight.
They tell us to dig.
And we dig our graves.
For the end of the war,
We will not see.
For there is no end,
When the world’s gone to hell.
They feed us the dirt,
So we eat it smiling.
They arm us with shovels,
So we dig their trenches.
They hand us our guts,
So we can shove them back in.
The Drowned Vale
Old Letter

I must have burned my skin to bone about as many times as I’ve broken fingers. These blasted old rifles… maybe it’s time to seek out new materials. New tools. I fear I may not be successful out here in the wetlands. Let me tell you, those dreadful birds never shut up!
If you have any thoughts, please write back in a hurry.
He signs off with only, ‘Your dear friend.’
Dead Bird?

What a morbid display.
Mad Scrawlings

Hah. I figured out what none could. Stupid smugglers. Stupid me, I guess. They found me, and I’m sure you figured out what happened.
There’s another wall, you must know. Nothing less than a tank will crack it, and even then, I’m not sure that would do it. Maybe with enough force.
Enough . . . What is enough?
It’s dark now. Light flickers. Out of matches. Cold. Hungry. The monsters. Did I deserve this?
Tempest Island
Hollow Book

Inside you find a hole carved out between the pages, revealing a generous amount of dried jerky bound with cedar twine. It smells delicious, but you know it’s worth too much to consume. Though your hunger might betray you.
It’s been ages since you’ve smelled decent meat.
A Brief History of Caoiva Vol. I

As unrest spread southwest to Ogmaran, Callahan, leading a small force of his own men, infiltrated the town and held it without shedding a drop of blood. Deft in the art of diplomacy, his silver tongue earned him a bevy of new followers. They commemorated his leadership with a name befitting the son of a legend.
Thus, the Brigade of the Eight Sons was formed. Callahan led them into battle, proudly bearing the honour of his brothers until his death at the hands of Velian rebels.
Westgate
Journal of a Grieving Highlander

I found them. We found them. Buried them, my love. One by one. They told our little boy to smile before they buried that hatchet into his temple.
I watched. They held my eyes open, made me. Should have killed me. They didn’t.
We made them smile too before we put them in the ground, didn't we? It wouldn’t do for them to go quickly, oh no . . . No. It wou—
The rest devolves into illegible scrawlings.
Ava Gibbs Retort

You can tell it's in bad shape, and dare not touch it lest it tear and crumble.
To the venerable Alderman Higgins.
While I understand the construction of your silly wall has caused some amount of stress among the populace. This is of no concern to me. However, I’d implore you to stop sending Warden thugs to my doorstep—they scare my children.
Whatever your position, don’t presume to intimidate us, the southerners have promised protection, and have thus proven reliable. We will not be moved from our land. We will not be bargained with.
Make no mistake, it is ours. My family has owned this land for generations, you have no claim to it.
On this matter, I shall not be swayed.
Respectfully,
Ava Gibbs.
Inner Dialogue

The salty ocean breeze refreshes your senses and allows your mind to drift. For the first time in months, you let your hand drop from the pistol on your belt, the one that’s been by your side since you were strong enough to lift it.
Faces of onetime comrades blur and twist in the dark while the crashing surf struggles to drown out all that screaming in the distance.
The crack of nearby gunfire halts your brief reprieve and a sudden sense of dread washes over you.
Letter to a Consul

The peasants south of the wall are angry and in need of an outlet. We should put rifles in their hands and let them march on their oppressors. Let them sow the seeds of mistrust.
If we establish a holding in the west, imagine what could be accomplished? If my hunch is correct, it would allow us to walk through the gates. The trust of common folk is a powerful tool and they already feel betrayed.
Our enemy has done half the work.
Note Nailed to a Tree

Anyone caught doing so will be executed on the spot.
Umbral Wildwood
Crashed Motorcycle

Faerie Ring

When the rubble forms a ring and mushrooms grow, it’s said to be a portal to another world, a world where strange creatures abduct those nearby, and replace them.
It’s all just superstition, though. At least that’s what you keep telling yourself.
Vehicle Husk

Thoughts of the crew flash before your eyes. Images of ghosts who once piloted this beast until its engine sputtered out, only to be abandoned here, lost to a once promising frontier. They must have been some crew, you think. Taming such a monster would not have been for the faint of heart. You feel compelled to reach out and touch the damp, rusted metal only to be reminded that it is, in fact, just a dead machine.
All things must die it seems, man and machine alike.
Then, as if spurred on by your thoughts, you spot movement . . .
Tucked inside where the driver might have been is a small next. A litter of tiny lynx stare back at you, their frightened eyes glowing in the shadow of the beast.
A smile forces itself across your face, and you tap the machine’s frame like it’s the shoulder of an old friend.
Inner Haven Vol. 8

The rest of the pages are mouldy and illegible.
Allod's Bight
Scattered Parts

You lift a pipe and read the inscription on the side.
H5-Beta Vulcan
It has a curious fitting on one end, with large bolts and oddly shaped washers.
You toss it back into the pile and go about your day.
Horror

24 Lunarly, 796.
I’ve eaten nothing but crab, rotten apple slices, and olives for the better part of weeks. I’d kill for some tea, or even boiled water. Since these damnable northerners locked down the border, I’ve seen too many starve: children, elderly, or worse. I’ve shared rations with my students to keep them strong, but it’s not enough.
It’s never enough.
25 Lunarly, 796.
Nothing of note today. Some of the children are sneezing up a storm with hay fever. It is common this time of year.
28 Lunarly, 796.
Death has often been a fixture in my life, and I’ve lost many comrades. I’ve accepted it as a truth, mourned them in my own way, through rage and duty. But this time…
I’m at a loss for words. My Ana, she’s inconsolable. The girl’s blood is fire and I fear she’ll too find herself buried in retaliation. The pot's about to boil over and there’s naught I can do to stop it I’m afraid.
The best I can provide is guidance.
10 Respira, 796.
The sight of her leaning in the doorway, painted head to toe in red. I’ve never seen a thing like it. She disobeyed my order, yet it was an order given only to keep her safe. Perhaps I may have been keeping our oppressors safe. They don’t know who we are, who she is. Gods help what they’ve unleashed.
The Heartlands
Recruitment Poster

If one of you Collie fuckers see this, consider it a warning. I'm coming for you, I see you now.
Watch your back, dogs.
- M
Recruitment Poster

These are our streets. These are our people, these are our lands, stand up and join the Hands.
Abandoned Workshop

It lists supplies recovered after skirmishes in the area and names of a salvage detachment, their contributions, and payments for an operation.
One name stands out: Carol Gough-Mercy
Makeshift Game

Archive

You guess someone was trying to keep an archive.
Wine Cask

Fire Pit

Inner Haven Vol. 12

They're blind to our world. Will they even see us when the Colonial Legion storm their walls like thunder. For so long, they’ve looked down on us, but we'll be the ones standing tall.
All they'll see is the dirt we shovel over their eyes.
Tobacco Case

Here's a sample of the Tobacco. Smuggled it out of the farm complexes southeast by Therízo. You Caoivish have never smoked the likes of this, I promise you. If you’re hankering for more, fill the case with some of that jerky from the Fisherman's Row. Leave it at the fort. Once it’s found, I’ll send a lad out to set up a meet.
Shackled Chasm
Colonial Recon Report

Magister, we’ve heard from our Kraunian allies out west: the Bronze Men have taken the desert at Leiloa Fa. The Senate implores us to keep contact with them. They may be drunks and rapists, but they are a powerful force with whom we wish to ensure allegiance.
We offer them much, and they serve our interests in the west. This is a game we must play. There are whispers of resistances trickling out of the warring countries. Some refusing to fight, others refusing to provide. This is troubling. Reports from our own city-states claim total fidelity as anticipated.
I suspect the Bronze Men along with our myriad allies, will play a part in maintaining their loyalty for generations.
A Personal Treatise on the Impact of the Hanged Men

You leaf through the treatise and stop, skimming over a few paragraphs.
Though the vaults were first discovered by sycophants and scheming thieves, exposing the inner workings of the vaults and allowing us access to relics of old has had its advantages. It is no surprise that many schematics and blueprints had become unfortunate victims in the various raids on our plants in the south. The engineers did what they could, but a mere imitation will always be just that, a second-rate copy.
Now through reverse engineering these beasts, new schematics have been drawn up, and we do believe we can manufacture a suitable replacement alloy for those no longer in abundance. What is more, various improvements to the overall structure, and we have made many modernizations. Such are the insights of these discoveries that we believe some rediscovered processes may yet make their way back into our modern arsenal.
The Hanged men, the greedy bastards, have done us an extraordinary service in hoarding the past—Colonial and Warden both—behind their mountainous vaults. It is a damn shame we had not discovered them sooner. In consequence, more intel on Warden manufacturing has landed in our lap, details behind the superb structural engineering use on the vaults themselves, and we have reclaimed a piece of our history.
The Magisters will be all too eager to study these schematics and their impact on the war effort. I dispatched copies by courier to Alympia College. Though Paeon would like to see their order abolished, I have found the Magisters to be quite helpful in my time on the council. In truth, it is a shame more are not trained. Mayhaps we would have fewer scoundrels. It is a foolish thought;the classless are like rats: stamp one out, and a dozen more take their place.
Forgive these digressions;they are the ramblings of an old, optimistic fool. Now, onto matters concerning the identities of the Hanged Men . .
The Fingers
Hollow Book

Inside you find a hole carved out between the pages, revealing a generous amount of dried jerky bound with cedar twine. It smells delicious, but you know it’s worth too much to consume. Though your hunger might betray you.
It’s been ages since you’ve smelled decent meat.
Unmarked Letter

Dudley Balderstone… the legendary Sea Dragon hisself.
Ne’er in my years would I fathom such a man would seek the council of an old bilge rat such as I. Let’s discuss the details over this bottle of brandy you were so generous to gift.
Concerns of my Reavers harbouring deals with Meseans are unfounded;none of my men have the sacks to turn their coats. Protection or no, like yourself, I have eyes and ears in every cabin and every hall across the continent. No, Sir, ‘twas I who dealt with the wine drinkers, and only a matter of silver and garlands at that, no more. Let’s leave this palaver to honourable men, and what say you and I chat like villains?
We have quite the opportunity for a profitable partnership, you and I. Nay, friends, even. We shouldn’t let foul politics set us off course. Such is my sincerity that I write this letter prior to our sit down.
Here’s to popping the cork.
Admissions Letter

Alexander Leventis,
It is our esteemed pleasure to grant you admittance to the Summit Institute of Mastery and Magisters. We are excited to welcome you to our novitiate campus in the heart of Mesea.
You are to arrive in the city in a month’s time, and must arrange for all your fees to be paid upon arrival. Once situated, you will be escorted to your chambers. These are exciting times, but understand that acceptance into such an esteemed institution is not only an honour, but a duty of the highest order.
Taking on the role of magister comes with an immense amount of responsibility. Respect and honour those who came before you, and you will, in turn, earn their respect.
Good luck and may glory find you.
Ash Fields
Phantoms in the Fields

Various personal knickknacks are left behind. It almost seems intentional, as if those posted here have made a ritual of it. Curious, you flip through a journal someone left behind.
They’re out there. I spoke to Chiro about it in the morning, and he swore on his life it happened. Alexopoulos doesn’t believe us, but he wasn’t out there at the time. But we saw them.
At first we took them for Warden scouts or a recon unit. I nearly called it in, but we watched them for a while, and they seemed to… float. I’m not sure how, but they appeared to slide forward, came right towards us. We raised our firearms, ordered them to halt, but got no reaction. They just floated right through us.
I’d love to chalk it up to exhaustion, which wouldn’t be a fib, but that doesn’t explain these… phantoms that we both experienced.
Great March
Child and Father Transcript

Child - to remember a time before war—before me.
F - And before I was born, and my father, and his father before him.
C - How do we know there was a time like that.
F - We trust our fathers and our mothers. We know that, a long time ago, there was a time of peace. Here in the old Swan, we’ve always brought sunflowers to the Fengari Church. Your grandad said it was so we could surround the darkness with light. To hold onto hope for a future. That way, the light can never to be snuffed out.
The transcript continues, but you feel you’ve intruded enough.
Child's Grave

Grave of Dorian Grivas

Loving mother of three, loyal wife, fierce warrior, and valued Colonial.
Born in Katoma, Dorian ranked highest amongst her legion. With an excess of two hundred confirmed kills and twenty-five successful operations, she was a standout soldier who modelled exemplary leadership skills.
She will be missed.
Old Tent

I’m doing my best to make sense of the situation. It’s not like Wardens to peek south of their blasted wall. It seems we’ve rattled the wasp’s nest and they’ve seen fit to sting us for it. Tell the Legate we believe they intend to vie for control of the March to open up a southern checkpoint.
We can’t afford them a foothold this far south and must secure the road ourselves. Get reinforcements up here so we can drive out these coat-tailed whoresons.
Old Tent

Old Tent

Terminus
Oil Spill

A strong sulfurous smell wafts from the barrels. Your gut intuition suggests it’s more flammable than crude oil.
Grave of Thea Maro

Legatus Domini, Thea Maro
782 - 847
Gladius Prime, Echo Pullus
771 - 835
Gladius Prime, Matias Bassus
779 - 843
Gladius, Meleana Seneca
792 - 821
Gladius, Lucanis Saturnus
775 - 824
Gladius, Schala Chronos
795 - 851
Gladius, Heron Aspída
780 - 815
Gladius--the name here has been vandalized with the words “TRAITOR” and “COLD BLOOD” carved over it.
781 - 860
Gladius, Yuta Horus
782 - 841
Thea Maro, Great Granddaughter to the late Velian hero, Legatus Prime Silas Maro, and Daughter to Magister Janus Maro. The young liberator of Therizó and her elite unit, the Swords of Maro, set in motion a turning of tides against the northern invaders that is still felt generations hence.
Their eternal rest is well-earned,
For the end, was their glory.
Explosion Site

Though the shells were not detonated in the initial explosion, you feel no safer standing nearby, and resolve to exit the vicinity as soon as possible.
Red River
The Battle of Red River

You consider the journey this weapon has been through, the battles, the wars. You have heard whispers of the famed Battle of Red River, and the thousands that marched over the very ground you now walk, the boots that trampled the grass and flowers, the blood that provided them nourishment in the aftermath.
They stood in lines with their primitive weaponry, praying to gods who would not answer. You take a moment to give them thanks, for you would not be here today without their sacrifice.
And yet…
The war machine churns ever still. More sacrifices must be made.
Remnants of War

Your chest flushes with heat as you consider the remnants of a war that has scarred the verdant fields of the Red River and beyond.
A daydream overtakes you, filled with visions of what might have become of these lands should war not have overtaken them. The villages and denizens who might inhabit them. The peace that is always promised. You lament the idea that this future might never arrive for you, but grit your teeth in determination that it will not be a dream for your descendants.
But grit only takes one so far, and your jaw falls slack. A sudden weight overtakes you as you feel compelled to peel some of the moss away from the concrete slab.
You pocket it, feeling daft doing so.
You’re unsure why, but this small token provides you with a sort of resolve, so you keep marching.
Acrithia
Makeshift Encampment

Signs of a rodent infestation are abundant. Hidden in the dark corners you the see the glowing yellowing eyes of small cats staring back, as if afraid of your presence.
You first posit that they must have used these stone walls as cover for a refugee camp. Upon further inspection, you spot many signs that children would have occupied this space. Dolls and clothing too small for an adult, small games and useless trinkets.
Whoever occupied this space, they were well-stocked for a long winter. Nothing indicates a struggle, no bodies, blood, no bullet holes in the walls, and everything seems almost frozen in time. The occupants would have picked up only what they had around them and left, especially with so much food left to rot.
Wherever the children have gone, you are thankful they at least had some safety behind these ancient walls and hope they were given shelter in the nearby town.
You press a hand to the cold stone and close your eyes. Along with the blowing wind and leaves, you swear the walls are breathing. Perhaps sighing.
You’re probably just imagining things.
Stone Carving

Temple of the Third Spears
Cirillo House
Each letter is carefully considered, spaced and lined impeccably. Someone put quite the effort into ensuring the cuts were deep and legible.
Makeshift Altar

There are several crude children’s drawings to the left of the altar. The whole setup feels like as though this crumbling fort once harboured an entire community.
Kalokai
Rusting Bones

8 Hawk, 799.
Some time has passed since I’ve last written, and the regret weighs on me. Introspection is a vital skill, but it seems such a folly to sharpen the brain as the bones rust.
12 Cos, 800.
You note the handwriting here is significantly shakier than the earlier entry.
Many moons hence, I lamented having to train a bunch of children after being shipped away to that damned northern coastal city. I hated the salty breeze, the taste of fish, and the lazy locals.
Now that I’m free of it all, I find myself dreaming of those days. I think of the twins as my own daughters, cannot separate that notion from reality. I miss them dearly and sometimes feel the grit of dirt under my fingernails from the burial. Ana’s tears still dampen my old knuckles and when I close my eyes, all I see is that steely look in her eyes, as if she would happily hold a torch to the world with a smile on her face.
Sometimes I take responsibility, my old frame simply in the way, out of touch, not thorough enough in my instruction. But that’s only self-flagellation. A piteous way to live if I’d ever known it. I am not that man.
My hand aches;I should stop. Perhaps in time I will feel comforted with all that I have done, but for now all I feel is wonder.
Old Fight Advertisement

Brawl With the Beasts
The Prince vs. Kastor Leon
See the prince of the wilds take on the blood of the Lionheart in a clash for the ages in this exhibition bout.
Featuring:
The Formidable Phalanx vs. The Desert Lions
Mounted Contest
Myron “The Mist” Filo vs. Jude Mavros
A Battle of Centurions - Bare-Handed Wrestling Bout
Cen. Miltiades Pagonis vs. Cen. Iduma Hasapi
It’s your understanding that such events are common in the south, that Velians and Meseans share a history of exhibition combat to sharpen their senses while providing entertainment.
Behind a wall, you spot a pair of shackles. Perhaps not all combatants willingly participate.
Vehicles and Weapons
H-5 “Hatchet”
Late into the Great Wars, the Colonials were not able to make much forward progress, as their armoured forces struggled with the terrain north of the Deadlands. Having failed in a campaign near Whedon's Row, a young, talented engineer from the industrialized western city-state of Dimiourg developed the H-class light tank.
The H5, or "Hatchet" (as it's been lovingly dubbed by the Legion) is a versatile light tank capable of navigating through tight mountainous regions or urban streets. Unlike earlier H-class tanks used prior to the Boreal Wars, the Hatchet's design needed to be streamlined due to dwindling resources. As a result, it can now accommodate a 3 person crew and can reach slightly higher speeds. This makes the Hatchet a perfect tool in a first recon operation or in the advance guard of an assault[1]
Devitt Mk. III
Based on one of the first mechanized vehicles ever commissioned for war, The Devitt series of light tanks were a refinement and a repurposing built to adapt to changing battle conditions. To the north of River Mercy in Mooring County, a new design went into development shortly after the Breaching. With its enchanced resistance to ballistics and increased maneuverability for its crew, the Devitt allowed the Wardens to keep pace with the Colonials, who at the time were far more efficient.
Even with these advantages, the earliest models of the Devitt were masterful examples of care and craftsmanship. These armored vehicles may have been works of art, but they were very time-consuming and expensive to develop. The Mark III was designed to increase efficiency and lower production costs. During this time, the Wardens began recycling their decommissioned vehicles by melting them back down to raw materials. This updated design allowed for easier manufacturing and fitting of recycled parts; this meant more Devitts could be sent out to the field. Whether it's on the front line, protecting a convoy, or leading a border assault, the Devitt is a sturdy and reliable asset.[2]
Storm Rifle
A selective fire rifle that supports both semi-automatic and fully automatic modes, giving it the close quarters effectiveness of a Submachine Gun and the range of a Carbine. However, this flexibility comes at a cost as the Storm Rifle is expensive, heavy, and suffers from high recoil.
Developed at the height of the Great Wars, the Storm Rifle was considered by many the most advanced rifle of the era. While the versatility of the weapon allowed soldiers to adapt to changing battlefield conditions, it was deemed too bulky and difficult to maintain for regular use. As resources dwindled during the later decates of the hundred year conflict, production was halted on the Storm Rifle and they became a rarity in the field.
Landing APC
The multipurpose Landing APC is an amphibious warfare vehicle designed to transport infantry across both land and sea. This is an all terrain carrier that can hold up to eight soldiers and has a moderate amount of storage space. Capable of resisting small arms and explosives, this vehicle is effective at ferrying troops into combat zones at the front line.
An earlier model of the Landing A.P.C. was instrumental for the Colonials in taking Fisherman's Row and the beach landings of Farranac Coast. This particular vehicle has been iterated on many times throughout the years since the Great Wars, with variations coming from both Warden and Colonial engineers. If there's water to cross, the Landing A.P.C. is invaluable in strategic manuevering or running soldiers and supplies offshore.
Field Machine Gun
A wheel mounted, high caliber, anti-infantry gun that requires two soldiers to transport and operate. The Field Machine Gun is excellent and repelling enemy infantry and will also have superior suppression capability. During the Great Wars, these heavy guns were only used on static emplacements for defensive purposes, but they have since been repurposed for the field. Equipped with 14.5mm rounds, the Field Machine Gun is feared on the battlefield for it's ability to steamroll through well defended positions. A front facing armored shielding provides cover, allowing operators to push forward during attacks with relative safety.
Siege Tank
A relatively recent addition to the Colonial arsenal, the HC-7 or "Ballista is a specialized tank fitted with a front-facing mortar cannon designed to level structures with ease. Built on the bones of the smaller but proven H-series chassis, the HC series of tanks brings improved armour, more reliable treads along with the formidable 250mm short-barrelled Hades mortar.
The team behind the ballista operated out of the Velian capital of Damokratos. This intrepid young crew apprenticed under the engineers responsible for the L-series or "Lance" battle tank, earning invaluable experience. One intrepid mechanic by the name of Dell'oro Ricci noted the H-series' inability to directly tackle defensive structures and would often fall behind or suffer significant damage, thus identifying a gap in the Colonial arsenal.
The Ballista has since become a staple in the Legion's feared armour division and -living up to its namesake- lays siege to our enemies before the know what hit them.[3]
Misc
The Battle of Red River
Two hundred years before the onset of the Great Wars, a civil war sundered the country of Veli. Caught between the Meseans of the south and the northern Caoivish, an ideological rift threatened the fabric of unity.
As the first stones of the Bulwark - a coast-to-coast wall built as a response to ongoing tensions with the south - were set, many Velians feared what it might mean to be cut off from northern aid. Other were dismayed by the prospect of increasing Mesean occupation.
Now, after fifteen years of bloody conflict, the hands of Veli make on final stand at the apex of the Red River against encroaching Republican Colonial Forces. The Battle of Red River would have a monumental impact on the centuries to follow.
Will there be a glimmer of peace or generations of violence?