The marshes parch under the relentless heat of the great drought, the trees wither beneath its unrelenting gaze, and the Jotun wash across Bregasland like the tide roaring in. The Rushes and Graven March fall in short order to a force of more than thirty thousand orcs and their human allies. Mathilda Fisher plants a battle standard bearing the likeness of a leaping fish in the town square at Graven, and that seems to be that. The marshes are now completely under control of the Fishers, aided by the great armies of the western orcs.
