Field Report
Allied Gidan Command
23 July 1024, B.M.R.
Sir Warlord,
Final preparations are underway at the portal war camp. Despite the bands of troops stationed down here, the caverns are remarkably quiet—there is tension in the air, the kind of tension one applies to the string of a bow to ensure that your first shot lands true.
I admire the way our friends and allies have answered the call to arms. You know as well as I do that this war is an unusual one, being that we are the aggressors entering a foreign land. The threat to our lands posed by the Risen Kingdom was brought to an end when we captured this portal in 1018. We could have stopped fighting when we drove the wretched enemy from our sovereign kingdom and rightfully celebrated our victory. Gi could have become a dusty memory, a curious name remembered only in the stories we pass down to new adventurers.
That might have been good enough, but then we realized that we weren’t just fighting for ourselves.
I already knew that Gi had some humanity, given that I had put in a great deal of effort towards rehoming and rehabilitating the enemy’s soldiers who were left stranded in our world when we captured their portal. They were, as many soldiers are, regular people with regular lives who became wrapped up in the ambitions of their commanders. (And sir, I assure you that the dual-edged nature of that particular statement is not at all lost on me in this moment.) But for better or for worse, their lives in Gi had been supported by crumbs of the Risen Kingdom’s wealth.
River was the first Gidan I ever met outside of a battlefield. A civilian, living her life on her own terms. We saved her from a pack of giant cats, and out of gratitude she offered to introduce us to her village.
I remember thinking to myself, astonished: “There are enough people here to form a village?”
In my report to you, I counted three buildings and five citizens in this village. A trivial place in any other setting, but in Gi they were five more people than I ever expected to meet without my sword drawn. That’s not to say that we weren’t on guard during this first meeting. I also remember discussing the high likelihood of ambush, and how our expedition was likely being set up by agents of the enemy. And yet despite the reputation of adventurers, we spilled no blood that night. These people offered us their meager hospitality and they MEANT it.
I also reported to you a conversation I had with their mayor. The description was brief: she told me about her brother, who had been called into service by the Risen Kingdom and marched through the portal to do battle in an unknown land. I chose to reveal my role in that conflict to her, and rather than hating me for it she asked me to look for her kin. What I have not reported to you, sir, is how that conversation still haunts me to this day. There are people—real people!—who despite every curse inflicted upon this plane by the Fallen King still insist on calling Gi their home. No, not just calling it home. Making it their home.
When describing Gi to other adventurers who have never been there, I often describe it as a wasteland devoid of most life, where even the dust has been mined out by the Risen Kingdom. And although this is true in a broad sense, I have to admit that I have been doing a disservice to the Gidans. There is quite a lot of life in Gi, and you can find traces of it everywhere.
We are no longer fighting for ourselves. We are fighting for the Gidans.
Brother sir, I hope to write to you again soon to describe the means of our victory in Gi. If I do not, please understand that I did the best I could.
By my own hand and seal,
And in the name of Gidan Freedom,
Sir Orion
