Fiction

Farewell, Silverwastes

To the people of Tyria,

Forgive me for my lapse in correspondence of late. The days since the defeat of the Mordrem Vinewrath have been an unsavory blur of letters to the families of the dead, the stomach-turning odor of burning flesh, and hunting down what Mordrem remain lurking in the dark corners of this wasteland. However, it is with great joy that I proclaim the task at hand complete: the Silverwastes region is now fully and completely under Pact control, and Mordremoth’s advance has finally been thwarted.

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With that in mind, our time for rejoicing is fated to be brief. Dark times lie on the horizon for the Pact war machine. Trahearne plans to launch a full scale assault on the Maguuma Jungle itself, our mighty airships set to rain fire and judgement down upon the Dragon’s horde. In a way, the prospect saddens me. The jungle is guilty of nothing, and I resent the wanton destruction of such a beautiful and vibrant ecosystem. The airships are being stocked with supplies as we speak, and the fleet is scheduled to depart for the Maguuma Jungle in two days. Though it pains me to leave my readers uninformed, I cannot condone the indiscriminate burning and demolishing of such a wonderful, mysterious, and natural landscape, and as such, I shall not be accompanying the Pact into the jungle. I yearn for the defeat of the Elder Dragons as much as the next free Tyrian, but I believe there to be less collaterally damaging ways of combating them directly. By writing off the obliteration of an entire region as a means to a greater end, we become no better than that which we seek to eliminate.

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With that being said, I shall miss both the Pact and the Silverwastes immensely. Many a night have I enjoyed camped around a fire with the troops, swapping tales of bygone adventures. Apart from my frequent visits to the Durmand Priory, I shall be hard pressed to ever be surrounded by as many talented and learned individuals as I am here. My time battling Mordremoth has been the experience of a lifetime, and returning to the life of a simple travelling journalist seems so inconceivable after the things I have done and seen in the Silverwastes. However, there are interesting prospects still. Long have I wished to stand upon the shores of the Ring of Fire islands, or traverse the shadowy streets of Kaineng City. Impossible though such things may seem, it is amazing what one can accomplish with the right contacts.

But enough of this dour talk. I wish not to leave my readers with heavy hearts. Wherever my travels take me, and for whatever reason, my missives shall always find their way to the people of Tyria.

With all due respect,

Ellis Knox

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Silver moon over silky sand

A wasteland wrought from suffering

Sorrowful crags and wounded mesas

Keen mournfully in a forgotten tongue

 

The war is fought and the day is won

Yet years of strife still lie ahead

The wasteland breathes free air once more

While Tyria chokes on tainted fumes

 

A shadowy menace lies in wait

One which has yet to reveal its face

The shadow lies, the shadow waits

It holds the key to Tyria’s fate

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