I am standing on the road between the buildings of Forum at Runeheim looking to the forest bridge.

A familiar place, a familiar feeling, but an unfamiliar sight. Banners of the Church of Mankind, coming to do war with the town. I did not know what to expect, but this year of war in the Cold Throne has had no shortage of horror, of violence, but this is different. These should be allied forces.

I steel myself for the coming battle, checking the straps on my new-forged armor. Once again I march to the bridge, to fight Men turned to violence.

And against these forces arrayed in Runeheim they splashed like a wave on the cliffs, all thats left on the would be surf are meat and bone, splattered with blood from the red-robed inquisitors.

The implications are yet to be seen, but the meat and blood stand apparent.