From a games mechanics POV, Urizen are no-where near dead… they still hold a good 2.5 provinces, for instance. And they’d have to lose all of those before you start to consider the nation dead… (from an interview with the games team, on the Noobs at Larp podcast).
From a strategic POV, Urizen are no-where near dead. They still hold their army, at least a couple of provinces and have many friends rallying in support. Including, yes, Dawn opening a second front against the Druj.
From a tactical POV, Urizen are no-where near dead. They’ve lost a lot of good characters, but as long as folk are generating more Urizeni PCs, they’ll be fine.
For years the Imperial Orcs have been the smallest nation on the field, and for a long while with ZERO territories. For quite a while the Urizeni have outnumbered the Brass Coast on the battlefield.
I have full confidence that Urizen, both IC and OOC, will be with us to the end, one way or another…
(Even if they have to rip a mountain city out of the ground and have it flying around as a tiny city state…)
The sunset had been red, appropriately. Light shone down on the rocky beach, a long spit of gravel into the sea, from the fortress burning on the bluff above, and from the crude Druj ships a-light off the coast. The Freeborn squadrons had come over the horizon in the blaze of noon, and now their crew watched their work, and that of their friends.
Down on the beach, a few desperate units still tried to hold back the shining tide descending on them. These were tough orcs, veterans, the survivors of a long series of defeats and retreats east, east, ever east, over the years… but they had run out of land, and time, and friends, although they had few of those to begin with.
This was the last night for the Druj…
Against them came waves of shining armour and fury, ranks of virtuous cataphracts, and gently-glowing warbands of sentinels and battlemagi. Battlecries of “Glory!” and “Reikos!” interspersed with “Remember Zenith!”
The battlelines broke back a moment, the Druj forces down to a few dozen screaming Slavelords, and a thin line of Pakkad. Their adversaries paused for a moment, and drew breath.
A figure in golden armour trimmed in blue stepped forth, lit by held torches, flicked blood off his sword. “Shattered remnants of the Druj! We will show you no mercy, for never have you! We will take no prisoners, for you cannot be trusted while you draw breath! We will kill you swiftly, for we are better than you, and do not embraces Hatred!”.
There was a shudder through the Druj ranks, huddled against the cruel, cold water.
“This is for the Barrens, and Drycastle, for the Semmerholm, and for all the Dawnish slain in our ages of war 'gainst you!”
From his right thundered a broad-shouldered figure in a dark hood, a white 3-towered castle on his chest, a mighty hammer grounded for a moment into the bloodied stones.
“And for the fallen of Reikos, the devastation that you wrought there in hate, all now come to folly and doom!”
And from their left stepped forth a tall slim figure in armour of silver, glowing blue round the edges, her spear leaving glittering afterimages in the air, her voice as clear and cruel as a mountain wind.
“And for Zenith, Morrow, and the thousands of Urizeni fallen in your assault, the learning lost and the light momentarily dimmed by your foul presence!”
Three weapons waved forwards, soldiers of three nations swept forth with a roar, and in firelight and blood, in screaming desperate struggle, at the very end of their time, the last of the Druj were pushed dying into the sea…
…and they were not mourned…