Reckoning - LARP

08/24/2026

🎙️ The first episode of the Reckoning Podcast is officially live!
Welcome to Reckoning: What the Hell Is This Place?
Join Makeera, Uthred, and Cazon as we introduce you to the world of Reckoning, talk about what makes the game unique, and share what new and returning players can expect.
🎥 Watch on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4h6R-gRbDo0

🎧 Listen on Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/episode/1wDCDOmqOzvCwC8i9y1oWL

A quick note from the podcast crew: We know there were a few technical issues with this first episode. This was our first attempt, and we learned a lot while making it! We’re already addressing those pain points so future episodes will sound even better.
Thank you for your patience and for joining us at the beginning of this new adventure!
Subscribe, follow, and let us know what you want to hear about in future episodes! ⚔️

08/23/2026

Subscribe to the official Reckoning LARP YouTube channel!
The Reckoning Podcast is coming soon, and you’ll want to be among the first to hear when Episode 1 drops. Subscribe now and turn on notifications so you don’t miss it!

Subscribe here: https://www.youtube.com//
The podcast will also be available on Spotify and the official Reckoning website so you can listen wherever your adventures take you.
Subscribe. Gather your party. The Reckoning is coming. ⚔️

Welcome to the official Reckoning LARP YouTube channel! Step into The March, a living fantasy world where four cultures struggle for survival, monsters gather in the shadows, and every choice has consequences. Reckoning is an immersive Live Action Roleplaying (LARP) experience where players become h...

08/20/2026

Every story begins with a choice.
Stand with the Suzák Mar, answering the call to reclaim what has been threatened.
Or join the Bandits, defending your territory against the coming invasion.
This isn't just another event.
It's a full weekend of immersive camping, battles, politics, alliances, betrayal, and unforgettable stories.
📅 November 20–22, 2026
⚠️ Attendance is limited to 150 players, and every attendee must choose a faction before arriving.
So...
Which banner will you follow?
📸

https://www.zeffy.com/en-US/ticketing/reckoning-fall-event

08/15/2026

Reckoning is getting a podcast!
We’ve been looking for more ways to share what’s happening in Reckoning outside of event weekends and give you a chance to hear from more of the people who make this world what it is.

So, meet Around the Reckoning Fire. Makeera, Uthred, and Cazon will be our regular hosts, with different guests joining us to talk about Reckoning, tell stories, answer questions, and occasionally explain what the hell is going on around here. We’re planning conversations with Game Runners, CLs, NPCs, players, crafters, staff, and more.

We’ll get into behind-the-scenes stuff, lore and world updates, upcoming events, character stories, builds, plot, and whatever else ends up coming up around the fire.

Our first episodes: Welcome to Reckoning: What the Hell Is This Place?

Behind the Reckoning: Meet the Game Runners

And we want ideas from you too! Who would you like us to interview? What do you want us to talk about? What have you always wanted to ask about Reckoning? Drop your ideas below. Pull up a chair. The fire’s getting started.

08/14/2026

This wasn’t Eisheim, this wasn’t the battlefield.

It was a colorless expanse where distance refused to exist. His first footstep echoed as though eternity itself were hollow. Gresham recoiled and stood alone, his robes scorched from the magic and Orc steel that had ended his life, his heartbeat absent, though he could still feel a phantom ache where it once belonged.

There he stood, suspended within an ocean of ink-black emptiness where time ceased to have meaning. Then, a pinprick of light. It shimmered in the distance, impossibly small against the endless dark, yet it grew with each passing instant. Not because it approached but because he was being drawn toward it.

The pale glow slowly revealed a desk. Simple. Wooden. Unremarkable. It felt profoundly wrong. The silence was broken only by the scratch of a quill gliding across parchment, followed by the deliberate shuffle of cards. Behind the desk sat a solitary figure cloaked in shadow. The wavering light danced across the ridges and valleys of a bronze mask.

The figure paid him no mind. The scratching continued. The cards were turned. The silence stretched until it became unbearable. Finally, Gresham found the courage to speak. The moment the sound left his lips, the figure's head snapped upward. The movement was impossibly fast, like reality itself had lurched than flesh had moved. Its head tilted sharply to one side.

"You..."

08/05/2026

I saw my brother lose ground.
"No!" I tried to stand. The leg folded beneath me.
Again, I tried with all my might, and could not regain my height. Every attempt ended the same way. The darkness whispered with every pulse of pain. Stay down. You've done enough. Others can finish this. The words felt familiar. Too familiar. How many times had despair spoken with that voice?
Then Father's words came unbidden; his presence surrounded me in our ancient throne room. “A lord is not measured by how many times he stands victorious. Only by how many times he rises.” I planted Veritas into the stone. Used it as a crutch. Forced one foot beneath me. Agony. Radiance, help me. Agony unlike anything I had ever known. Good. Pain meant I was still alive. Pain meant I could still protect the ones I loved. Pain meant I had something to push too, to focus on, to fight with. One step. Then another; my movement grew quicker. I buried the burning cold of my wound and pressed on. The Spawn never saw me. Its attention remained fixed upon Kaiden, who fought now with a desperation I had never witnessed.
He was buying me time just as Rodinnjar bought ours. Just as every man outside these walls had done. I threw away this shot, this chance to make all wrongs right. With everything that remained, I drove Veritas forward. The flaming blade pierced black flesh. Light erupted through the creature's chest, consuming the throne room and permeating the courtyard. For one endless heartbeat, the darkness fought to remain, clawing in the shadows that extended from pillars and statues of ancient Lockshire. Then it shattered, with one fell swoop I pulled the blade from its chest, and lopped off its head.

The scream echoed across the city. All the undead stopped as if to catch their nonexistent breath. And with a great pulse, it crumbled to dust and ashes where they stood. Victory had come, and yet there were no cheers; only great weeping for those who remained wandered the streets, and sifted through the bodies piled up on the bridges of those they feared would never answer again. Lockshire was ours again, though it no longer felt like ours. I looked toward the bridge. Nothing remained but broken shields, blue and green cloaks stained with blood. And the river carrying crimson toward the Lake.
The wind shifted. For just a moment, it howled to the tune of Rodinnjar’s song as if Lockshire herself proclaimed she would remember.

08/03/2026

Kaiden climbed the worn stone steps two at a time, his sword already slick with blood and the black icor of the undead. I forced myself after him, every breath burning hotter than the last. Behind us, the great bridge disappeared beneath a sea of black armor.
Rodinnjar had become a spear. No longer a wall. No longer a shield. They gave the Jameson forces enough leeway to reach the Citadel. The long winding stairs provided a great challenge as Calamity Guards lined the halls. The Blackmoores pressed on to hold them off, alongside Kieran and Dakota. I could not argue that Archi not come, but then again, the options were the bridge or in the citadel. She would be as safe as she could be with Katessa.
The remaining Rivlan forces stood alongside Rodinnjar. Their ranks narrowed until only a handful of men held the width of the bridge, forcing the dead to funnel into a killing ground barely wide enough for three abreast. They were not trying to survive. They were buying moments: one people, one enemy. The dream lived out at last, even in its dying breath. What Quinn had stood for at the gates of Schlosswald Garrsion, was now seen in full.
The gates of the Citadel stood open. The courtyard beyond had become a graveyard of long-past memories for the Brothers Jameson. Their home, that they had longed to see restored, was in ruins before them. The stones still charred black from the fires that consumed Maeve and Lyam Jameson at the stake. I winced in remembrance, but soon my memories faded as Calamity guards waited among them, silent as statues until we crossed the threshold.
When finally they moved, they were like streaks in the night. Flashes of heat bursting in strong movement against us. Kaiden met them head-on. I had seen my brother duel knights before. This wasn't a duel. It was ex*****on; his every stroke was precise, finding its place as he had identified it. I fought beside him because I always had since we were boys with wooden swords training in these very courtyards with Captain Thorn. Since Father first placed steel into our hands, and sent us to the Vigil to guard her walls. I had never imagined one without the other.
The Spawn waited beyond them, a false king upon an ancient throne. It sat there in the center of the throne room, her doors open wide, welcoming the Brothers Jameson to join him. Like something carved from a nightmare, it sent immediate chills down the spines of all who looked upon it. Its body seemed stitched together from too many co**ses, its limbs bending in ways no living creature should. Darkness gathered around it like smoke that refused the wind. It watched us.
Our friends took to the guards, allowing us passage to the throne room. Kaiden charged, and the creature answered him with fury; it was as if the first stroke had shaken the courtyard beyond. Veritas blazed in my hands as I cut through another Calamity guard. Turning toward my brother, I joined in the fight. Steel and flame clashed with shadow and smoke. Both of us were weaving in and out of the fury of Calamity, as one strike would send sword and body backward with great force. Kaiden closed the gap, bringing Maewyn’s hammer to end the Calamity spawn, only to be parried away, forcing the Warden to the ground. A finishing blow was prepared, but I gave him little time; raising Veritas, I parried. I was too late. Pain exploded through my leg. Something cold, not merely steel, but vile darkness itself. The blade punched through my thigh and into the stone beneath me. I crashed to one knee before I even realized I'd fallen. Black veins spread beneath my armor. Every heartbeat drove ice deeper into my bones.
From across the courtyard, Katessa demanded Archi be given passage to the Throne Room, only to be thwarted by the Calamity Guards. I reached for the Light, praying for the Radiance’s strength. The darkness clinging to the blade devoured every healing prayer offered over it. I tore the weapon free with a cry that barely sounded human. The leg refused me. It might as well have belonged to another man.
Kaiden staggered, rising from the ground to deflect the next blow. The Spawn had caught his sword. Its claws wrapped around the blade itself, wrenching him forward. For the first time in my life...

08/01/2026

For one terrible instant, I remembered stories Father had told us as boys, of men buried alive beneath collapsing walls. This felt worse as I struggled to breathe beneath the weight of my comrades. Walls did not struggle, nor did they beg. Yet I found myself pleading for air, as the heat of the living left their bodies one by one. With every ounce of strength I had left, I drove forward until space appeared around me once more. Kaiden stood only a few paces away. He fought exactly as Father had, no wasted motion.
No anger, just relentless purpose. Watching him was like looking backward through time; it stirred up courage in my own heart to see him fell the beasts before him. The bridge was already becoming our grave.
"We cannot hold!" someone shouted.
Kaiden glanced toward the Citadel rising above the city.
"No." His voice was calm, with a great weight of certainty.
"We only have to make certain someone else can." Then the horn sounded.
Deep and ancient. The forces of Rodinnjar. Had found their footing and restocked their strength. The blue-cloaked warriors moved without waiting for commands. They crossed before us, shields interlocking across the width of the bridge until they became a wall of living stone. Their Thane removed his helm, his eyes fixed on Quinn. His beard was wild and covered in red. His face carried the peace of a man who had already counted the cost.
"My Lords," he said quietly. "The Citadel awaits."
Kaiden stepped forward.
"So do we."
The Thane smiled.
"A bridge is not held because those upon it expect to live." He looked from my brother to me. "Lockshire still needs her Lords."
"And Rodinnjar?" I asked. Great regret in my voice, for in my heart, I already knew his answer.
He rested his hand upon his shield. "Rodinnjar was founded so others might endure. This will be our greatest stand. Here we fulfill our oaths." No bitterness covered his voice. No fear found its way out of his heart, only triumph and truth. The shields struck together, weapons clashed against oak. Once. Twice. Three times. The sound rolled across the river like distant thunder. Thane Bjarne of Rodinnjar lowered his axe. "Go now, Quinn Jameson. Lockshire waits for you."
Everything inside me rebelled. Every instinct told me to stand beside them, to die beside them. A lord should never ask another man to die where he would not.
Kaiden's hand found my shoulder. His grip was iron. "Quinn."
I looked at him. Not as a fallen Lord or as the Shield of the Rivlan Malitia. Not as a Warden of the Jaegers. As my brother and my greatest friend.
"If we fall here..." Kaiden swallowed. "...then everyone of them dies for nothing."
I hated that he was right. Behind us, Rodinnjar began to sing. The hymn was old, older than stone, perhaps older than memory itself. They sang as men who believed death would not have the final word. I carried that song with me as Kaiden pulled me toward the Citadel. Long after the battle drowned every other sound, I could still hear it…

07/30/2026

"Push!" someone cried. Perhaps it was me. Perhaps it was everyone. The line breathed as one creature, moving step by step; we pushed. Weakening flesh finding strength together as one voice. We gave ground. We reclaimed it. Shields slammed together. Spears darted through impossible gaps. Somewhere to my right, a young Rivlan lost his footing. Before I could reach him, two Rodinnjar stepped into the breach without a word, their blue shields locking into ours as naturally as stones fitted into an old wall.
There was no hesitation, no need for further command. Just duty to one another, just vigor to face our enemy. Embar flew through the battlements to my side, Faloan to Kaiden, and we mounted to charge the gates. Father used to tell me that courage wasn't born in the moment of battle. It was forged years before, in quiet obedience to small things. Looking at those men, I finally understood what he meant.
We’d made it beyond the gates, and the dead surged again.
My arms burned. Every swing of Veritas felt heavier than the last. Ash drifted through the air like black snow, a reminder that winter was once again coming. It settled upon helms and shoulders until we all looked like ghosts already mourning ourselves.
The dead charged towards the threat, and for the first time since entering the city, the pressure eased. From above the battlements, Dakota looked toward me only briefly. His face was streaked with soot and blood, but he was smiling.
"Go!" he shouted.
Not an order, but a promise. Kaiden was already moving, Maewyn’s Hammer glimmering against the dark ashes that fell around us. "To the bridges! To the Citadel!"
The city swallowed us, like the great beast that consumed the ancient prophet. Every street seemed narrower than I remembered. Houses I had known all my life leaned overhead, their windows dark with smoke. I remembered festivals in these streets. Children chasing one another beneath House Jameson banners. Merchants laughing outside their stalls. Now every doorway held death. Every corner demanded blood. By the time we reached the first bridge, my breath had become fire in my lungs.
Then I saw them. The host of the dead providing a last line of defense for Calamity’s spawn. The river beyond had disappeared beneath a sea of black armor and rotting flesh. The bridge itself had become nothing more than a narrow scar swallowed by an endless tide. Kaiden never slowed. Neither did I. What else was there to do? The collision was unlike anything I had imagined. It wasn't combat. It was suffocation. A chokehold on the bridge meant to end the living and bury them beneath a shallow, icy grave.
Kaiden and I were thrown from our horses, who became a buffet for the dead. Men pressed against me from every side until I could scarcely draw breath. Veritas became trapped between shields. My feet left the ground, carried by the sheer weight of bodies crushing together. Someone screamed inches from my ear. Then the scream stopped; I watched as life left his eyes. A co**se fell across my shoulders, another beneath my boots. The bridge disappeared.
There was only flesh, armor, mud, and blood.

07/28/2026

By the time the walls rose before us, my arms trembled from the weight of Veritas. The gates remained shut, their ancient oak reinforced with iron, built generations before my birth. They had never fallen before, and their only hope of taking the city and making it to the citadel was by getting past them. I prayed for our success.
"They need time!" I shouted, raising my shield. "Lock together!"
The order passed through the ranks almost before I finished speaking. Rivlan shields met Rodinnjar shields. Blue beside green. Wood against wood. The line became a single wall as the undead peered over the once white walls of Lockshire, knocking arrow to string.
“No man will survive because of his own strength. We will survive because of the man beside you. Fight for one another!” I yelled, as I hunkered down with the men and stood behind Kaiden’s shield.
Then arrows came. I heard them before I saw them. A whisper at the edge of the wind that became a hiss, then a roar, until the heavens themselves seemed intent on driving us into the earth. Hundreds of shafts darkened the red sky, blotting out the crimson moon and striking shields with the dull crack of splitting wood and ringing steel. Men flinched. Some cried out as they found small cracks and slivers to pierce. Most didn't, as the worst wounds rarely announced themselves.
"Shields! Hold the line!" I shouted. Whether they heard me or not hardly mattered. The line already knew its duty. I braced behind Kaiden’s shield as the next volley struck. The Horses were far enough back to keep them from the onslaught. The impact jarred my shoulder to the bone. Around me, Rivlan evergreen pressed shoulder to shoulder with the blue of Rodinnjar. Weeks ago, we were at odds over oaths. Now our bond was the fact that we drew breath in our lungs, and our shields touched as though they had always belonged together.
Perhaps that is what war truly did; it gave men a reason to unite beyond cultural colors and customs.
The arrows ceased. Almost as if the dead sought to catch their breath before another attack. The living closed in the gaps, moving the wounded back from the wall and out of the line of fire with the Boneknitter. For one heartbeat, silence settled over the field. How long had we stood here? Minutes? Hours? Battle has a cruel way of swallowing time, as if seconds were turned into years as the enemy advanced their onslaught. Then the silence was broken as a horn sounded somewhere above us: three clear notes, the call of the Rangers. The ancient chains groaned, as they ached under the weight of the gates. Every man along the wall looked up. For an agonizing instant they refused to move. Then, inch by inch, the ancient oak lifted, protesting with a sound like the mountain itself awakening.
Radiance be blessed... They'd done it. Dakota and Kieran, along with the Rangers, had used the tunnels to get to the gatehouse. All hope of survival rested on their mission, and they had done it. A cry of victory sounded among the living. A small spark had now turned into a roaring fire of hope.
Then the dead came. They did not charge with the fury of living men. There were no battle cries, no curses, no desperate courage. They advanced, tireless and inevitable, like the sea beating itself against cliffs it had failed to claim for a thousand years. They struck hard, like a typhoon of malice seeking to destroy. The wall crumbled under the weight of our enemy. My boots slid through mud already thick with blood. Veritas flared as I thrust its burning edge between shield rims, its fire biting into pale flesh that should never have moved again. The creature fell, only for two more to climb over its co**se. There was no glory in killing the dead. Only cruel labor.
Every enemy we felled became another obstacle beneath our feet. Every step forward cost us the strength to take the next.