An Open Letter
I have taken it upon myself to document the events that had forever altered the course of Grozorg. It is my duty to inform, to warn, to plead.
To whomever this dossier may come across, please dwell on these five simple words for a moment:
Your life is at stake.
There is no stopping the plague now, but you still have time to act before it gets the best of you; your friends, your family, your nation.
What does it all mean when everything I, Prokun Ulterium, have done comes to nothing? If the acts of my life fail to convince you, if the countless life changing acts of my story fail to persuade you, at least think of the ones you love.
You can never get the ones you love you lose back.
My father had always said, “Ulterium, take it all in and discern for yourself. The good, the bad, the right, the wrong, take it all in and discern.” So now, I have repainted the memories through a descriptive first-person perspective in hopes of appealing to you the legend of our great nation divided; the good, the bad, the right, the wrong. From my first-hand experience to the eyewitness accounts vividly described to me, I have created a sole chronological tale in hopes that you would come to our aid against the final frontier of Ultyrannust’s blight.
Please listen to my story. Our story. It begins with fourteen islands, once peacefully drifting along the unknown rim of the galaxy in unity. The entire utopia, formerly known as Growzorg, advanced into a complicated, mutual society renamed Grozorg.
Each island represents a different element, each element vital in the formation of the nation. The domains are chained together by bridges, upheld by an unseen force and protected by a serpent simply titled “The Gravity Dragon” and four ancient titans few had lay eyes on before. Every island is governed by a more-or-less monarchical system with a ruling lord, descendants of the high lord.
Twelve elemental islands encircle a main, larger piece of land. Twelve lords rule the twelve smaller islands, while a king governs the main central land, granting it the soliloquy Mainland Grozorg. Apart from the thirteen domains floats another island, which houses the high lord. He is responsible for overlooking every island, as opposed to a lord ruling his or her sole island. To the north of Mainland Grozorg drifts the domain of metal. Heading eastward comes the domain of water, life, space, air, illusion, electricity, rock, fire, ice, time, and nature. The central island and the furthest island, however, represents no element.
The twelve elemental islands also house an individual that has perfected their element, working at the side of their lord. The elemental masters could summon or control their respective element at ease, known throughout Grozorg as Mancers. The twelve Mancers were also representatives of their nations, and they would hold regular meetings in the Chamber of Mancers, located on Mainland Grozorg, to discuss the wellbeing of the nation. When they were near death, they would select an unknown individual to pass on their esoteric trade and title.
I do not wish to bore you any further; only to inform you of the bare basics of our former glory. Grozorg has lived at peace for centuries and centuries in the seemingly perfect system until history took a dark, dark, turn.
He has shattered the harmony in his search for power, destroyed every family in his selfish act, trampled peace in his corrupted conquest.
And he is coming for you.