Wednesday, January 2, 2013

Letter Fifty-Eight

Dear Smok,
I find it strange my nephew, passing strange to finally write to you in my proper mind set, strange but not entirely uncomfortable. I am exceedingly relieved to finally be able to put quill to parchment in my real mind, and not in that frankly unnatural second psych masquerading as myself.
         I find that still quite mind boggling that such a dragon as myself would have such an unstable and unhygienic counterpart within the bowels of my mind. I am very hopeful that this alternate personality will remain dormant for as long as possible, at leas length enough to properly explain my predicament to some of the dragons I have done unto in my prior years of instability.
         I have found it key to my recovery to take a rather long holiday in some of the more quiet provinces of Draconia, perhaps Frostuay, or maybe Deldosno, I hear their melons are in season. But hopefully my priorities will not stray far enough so that I am compelled to travel to Frizid, my correspondent Natar the Frostbitten has made it quite clear that a dragon’s fore claw would fall off in a gentle breeze emanating from that forsaken province, which is very possible to believe indeed due to the title of Frizid.
         Though I sense that a holiday may not be the best idea in this time of unrest, especially an obviously western supporter like me. Dark whispers have been coming abroad, hushed rumors of stirrings of the dark magicians in the forgotten places of the North. This is most troubling, in my experience with those terrible beings they are best left alone in their dark mountain caves. But if they are at last waking once more, it shall mean great ill for the Draconian world, even the Eastern dragons go down in myth as barely able to stand against any one of the Shadow Magicians and their dark Familiars.
         Perhaps you have not yet heard of the Dark Magicians in your studies. I am not very shocked at this, the myths and legends of the forgotten powers have been intentionally blotted out by superstitious historians. But, to put a very long story short, the dark magicians came into power. They were a dark breed of stunted Wyverns who dwelled in the deep caves of the mountains of Darr. They delved deep into witchcraft down in those cursed caves, drawing knowledge from tomes of witchcraft, and with that knowledge, power came.
         They drew to them a great army of creatures clad in darkness, even some dragons came to share in their power. They struck at the world of Draconia with devastating results, almost immediately taking the northern provinces with a mixture of dark magic and sheer force.
         But before they could get any farther, one of the most well known dragons put a stop to their rain of evil. You will have known him as Belligast the Boldest, but back then they called him Belligast the Lightclad on account of his triumph.
         He destroyed the armies of the magicians and drove them back single-clawed back into the darkness of the mountains. He was remembered forever onward as Belligast the Lightclad, though through time and ages long past he was dubbed Belligast the Boldest, perhaps on account of several dragon lawyers arguing about copy-writes, though I do not understand such things.
         At the moment I am on my way to the Northern Provinces with a convoy of both Eastern and Western dragons in search of the truth about these rumors. Even if the rumors of the magicians are just that, rumors, the North is troubled, rebels are attacking left and right, public unrest has twisted loyalties, and mob scenes are now daily.
         There is a war coming nephew, and I may have no choice but to pick sides. I nurse a certain loyalty to the North, as I was in fact born there and then taken to the Western provinces on account of a bout of disease.
         I have even been selected as a possible candidate for the general of the armies of the North, though only you know this, I have chosen to keep it covert for the moment, because I have a feeling that my companions in the convoy may not take it well.
         You will certainly have to choose sides in his coming Compass War, and I have great hopes you shall join me in the North as a supporter of the cause. Though no doubt your other uncles have tried to sway you I am hopeful that you may break away from Scaligar’s conniving and Semithino’s talk of the greater good and join me.
         Your anxious uncle,
Trubodox the Scarlet

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