Ghordic Accounts - The Script of the South

The fatigued steps of Warren Beauforte as he forwarded his trek across the snowy wasteland of Northern Ghord brought sludge and ice to grasp onto the soles of his spiked shoes. The dullen spikes lost their once purposeful grip, causing the icy surface of Mount Efiazo to form a more prevalent danger. Cold winds brushed through his bearded chin, trickling frost on the surface of his face. He reached towards the pickaxe latched onto his back and stuck it into the ice sheet facing him. Lunging himself upwards he grabbed onto the surface of the sheet and continued his trek. His muscles grew sore and exhaustion filled his lungs, wheezing to adjust to the air pressure of the great heights of Effie. The mist unveiled itself for a brief moment and Warren saw the still towering height of the mountain. Directly in front of him, the moon was starting to rise and next to it, a distant flame.

As the flame grew bigger and brighter, a rustic, bricked wall had revealed itself engraven into the edge of the cliff. A matching firepit on the other side of the entrance to this wall proved to be even larger than the first. An arched overhang marked the entrance and seeking refuge for the evening, Warren entered the crypt. The sludge leftover from his boots marked a path from which he had come from; the path soon disappeared into puddles. It was quite warm inside. Five pillars of fire burned the opening room: four at each corner and one in the center. The center pillar was quite large with some engraved runes on the body. Before the pillar lay a dented steel helmet, an old Ghordic sword, and a couple loose leaf papers in surprisingly perfect condition. Warren dropped his heavy pack and looked at the first page of the stack. Drawn at the top was the emblem of Canvaas, a green circle with black stripes approaching the center, yet never touching.

We're quite a ride away from the quaint ol' village. The Canvaazians despise the Northern Lands, what brought someone up to Ol' Effie? Warren opened his backpack and took out a sleeping mat, unrolling it on the stone floor. He ensured that no immediate danger was in the present room of the crypt and took out his pickaxe for his own safety. With his legs demanding for rest, he decided to take out his lantern, place it beside the mat, and lie down. He felt the dry and textured surface of the papers contrasting with his cold thumbs struggling to hold a firm grasp. After he flipped through the papers scanning the barely legible handwriting, he returned to the first and started making out the first words.

We were all b'hind the walls of the inn'r keep. All of us were 'quipped within our rows, each with the armour setup and our swords. The spirit within the lot of us was very tellin' as not a soul had been forced to appear on this day. The whole of us, must've been 'round 200 lads, crowded Thoeros Keep and got into our lines as we exited the gate into the main city. Children watch'd in fear as many o' their parents would soon be kill'd later that day. But all of us knew that o' course. We were ready to die for our city and our lord if we had to. Good ol' Lord Georlas had serv'd our city well for many years and with him on the edge of his grave, we were ready to make his dyin' days worth livin'. We had march'd outside the North'n Walls of our great village and into the nearby Li Wood.

Tsorn Li is my name and yes, I realize that my surname compares to the great forest. You see, my family were of those who first inhabit'd the forests. All Canvaazians had travel'd South after their ancest'rs with'n the Tundra had been forc'd out. The story of how that had happen'd is not important as of now, but the point is my family, who were among those exil'd, had taken it upon themselves to name the Great Forest of the South. So I wear my name as a badge, knowin' my true worth while defendin' my city.

We had three command'rs leadin' our cause; Relef, chief of the Canvaas guard, Cathorius, first-born son of the great Lord, and Aduus, second-born son of the Lord. Prince Cathorius declar'd this battle against the Li Folk after the savages had poison'd our waters, sickenin' many of our people. Aft'r near-full recovery, it was declar'd time to act against the Li. Feels weird sayin' that as my surname had named our enemies.

As we continued to march for miles at a time, t'was nearly direct sun by the time we had seen our adversaries. Their pale white faces and bright purple eyes were enough to disturb any man. Marchin' without order, they came sprintin' at us in their light armour and heavy battle axes, an unusual choice. They were clearly not as train'd as us but their sheer numb'r would be enough to make a tough fight. Bein' roughly 500 men compar'd to our 200 just spoke of this in itself.

We halt'd and the first row of men rais'd their shields, displayin' our proud mark. The first wave of the Li Folk charg'd into our shields and rais'd their battle axes. Swift movements of our second row, however, allow'd each Li to get pierc'd with a spear in the skull. This started the battle. The rest of the Li halt'd too, waitin' for our move. So our move we did. Relef and Prince Cathorius order'd the shields to form a path in the cent'r with a quick shout and swarms of soldiers like me rush'd through the openin'.

I saw my brothers eith'r get quickly slay'd or prevail'd by the time I reach'd my first victim. I lung'd forward towards his heart but he dodg'd left quickly. Swinging his battle axe, I had barely enough time to roll backwards. I then had regather'd myself quickly and stuck the sword right through their left eye. This first victim I rememb'r so well only because it was the first use I had actually made with my sword. I am no veteran, but that first kill had given me the strength to continue on fightin'. I felt myself strengthenin' with each Folkman that I had kill'd. One after one, my confidence had increas'd that we would remain victorious. The fight was busy with little space for all of us and I would constantly get push'd 'round by the quarrels of oth'rs.

Durin' a fight with one of the Li, a heavy battle axe had caught me off guard to my left and I dropp'd to the ground quickly to avoid it. I saw the battle axe keep swingin' into the Folkman that I had been truly fightin' and with a sharp groan, the dead Li fell right on top o' me, follow'd by anoth'r from a direction I could not recall. Layin' on the ground, I had a good view of the fight 'round. I saw my sister, Llara, jump up and kill multipl' of the Folkman with one swing of her sword. Relef, just a couple fights from 'er, was in the midst of an intense fight with the infamous lead'r of the Li. Good Prince Cathorius was showin' his value to our good village very well. Why, I had believ'd that he'd of made a great lord one day.

But just as I was watchin' Cathorius' brawl, a dagg'r had stuck right into the back of his head. I almost scream'd at the moment. Even as I think about it now, I want to take vengeance on our good Cathorius. I saw Cathorius' corpse fall 'cross the oth'r end of the battlefield, lifeless as could be. Seein' this made me more eag'r to fight, but only for a mom'nt as I had seen what had truly happen'd afterwards. I saw the smirk of Cathorius' kill'r and it surpris'd me to see that it was not a Folkman. Cathorius, the soon to be lord, the son of the Mighty Georlas, had been murder'd by his own broth'r.

I want'd to murd'r Aduus. It all made sense. Aduus had always want'd to be lord and he had chos'n the perfect mom'nt to make that happ'n. Durin' the midst of a chaotic battle with the dagg'r of a Li he must have kill'd himself. Aduus was good with knife-throwin', practicin' nearly ev'ryday, but none of us had realiz'd the true intentions 'hind his sport. He had always seem'd like such a good, young lad. But now, Aduus would 'come lord. I calm'd my ang'r and continued to lay there.

It has been a month or two now since this happen'd. I made the trek Nor', refusin' to live und'r the horribl' Aduus, slay'r of all things good. Going back to the roots of my ancest'rs, I left Llara, sayin' goodbye to my sist'r only and decid'd to head up on my own. I sit in an old crypt I found. Maybe one day I will furth'r 'xplore the inside of it. I see the majesty of fabl'd Tanolynne from the 'ntrance, but I plan to make it up to the top of Efiazo in ord'r to seek wisdom from the peak 'nstead. All in all, I don't even know who I write to, but I fel' the need to 'xpress my story. Lord Aduus is ILLEGITIMATE.

Warren read this last word over and over again. The uppercase, illegible handwriting made his heart quiver. He knew this letter must have been written three generations or so ago as Lord Aduus had been long dead with his great-grandson ruling the throne. If these letters spoke truth, however, then the reign of Canvaas would have no honor left to it.

I never trusted those Southerners much anyways. Twisted by the horrors of the forests. Warren could not tell if he should take further action on this cause. Warren was the typical lone-wolf trader, using his skills of the wilderness to earn himself a pretty penny at the Ghordic Commerce outlets. A spark of realization hit him, however, realizing the true worth of this document. Sell it to the right people and I could change the course of history. A lot of money could be involved with a secret as big as this.

Warren slipped the documents neatly into his backpack, trying to preserve them as best he could. With a grin under his scruffy beard, he had fallen to sleep with ease.