"Dearest Caitlin,
Greetings, oh flower of my life, from the grim Island of the Stormborn! I miss you more than words can possibly say, but fear not, my fragile bird of Maru, because I intend to leave Ysmir before week's end. The thought is not an unpleasant one, I must confess, because the Ysmirod are a gloomy lot. At first, I was afraid they wouldn't assist me with my research, but my fears turned out to be unfounded. A few days after my arrival at the Red Diamond airfield, I persuaded one of the eldri, which I believe means "leader" in the stormborn's guttural tongue, to talk to me about the island's history. Eldri Ulfric Skovald said he'd be delighted to, and he seemed surprised that a helgus, an Ysmirod word for "outsider," would be interested in such things. By the by, and I found this quite funny, the tongue spoken by the stormborn is called Ysmirod. Now, there are two types of people living on the island. Stormborn is the name given to those men and women whose ancestors survived an event know as the Hundred Year Harrowing. Ysmirod, on the other hand, is a general term meaning anyone living on Ysmir, including people that originally come from somewhere else. So, the Ysmirod speak Ysmirod. How entertaining!
Tomfoolery aside, it turns out dear Professor Dunwich was right when he hypothesized that Ysmir was originally part of primordial Ghersland before it rose into the sky. Remarkable, isn't it? During my brief stay among the Ysmirod, I’ve noticed many of their customs and behaviors were similar to those of the mainland Gherish, though there are numerous differences as well. For instance, due to the island's fearful proximity to the Ring of Thunder, the stormborn spend most of their time indoors, which lends them an unusually pale cast. I now understand why soldiers facing Ysmirod mercenaries in battle call them "ghosts." Obviously, the stormborn have a language of their own, and I've already managed to pick up a few phrases. For instance, "Jeg nyder ost!" means "I enjoy cheese!" The men and women of Ysmirod may not have the newest automobiles or overcoats available, but their sense of humor is quite perverse. Delightfully so, I assure you, fair Caitlin.
According to Eldri Skovald, the stormborn that invited me into his home so we could discuss Ysmir's history, a dreadful period known as the Hundred Year Harrowing followed Ysmir's ascension and separation from Ghersland. You see, my ripe pomegranate, most of this island is covered by the towering peaks of the Utgaard Mountains, and the only habitable region consists of rocky flatlands on the isle's southern tip. I believe the eldri mentioned a swamp of some kind as well, but you get the idea. To make matters worse, the soil is quite poor here, so the early stormborn were forced to rapidly adjust following their impromptu trip into the clouds. Perhaps the most noteworthy example I can think of, oh radiant lady of my heart, is they eat rock lichen here. Far too much rock lichen, in this dashing scholar's opinion. You have to give them credit where it's due, however, because they've come up with an overwhelming number of ways to hide the plant's awful taste. Eldri Skovald even gave me a cup of lichen beer before we sat down to begin our conversation. It tasted like cold piss, but I suppose it's the thought that counts.
In any event, the Hundred Year Harrowing was the name given to an event that lasted, well, a hundred years. During this time, the stormborn had no contact with Dover whatsoever. Cut off from essential life-giving resources, every man, woman, and child born on Ysmir was expected to contribute to the survival of their people. This attitude has persisted among the stormborn to this day. Whether they're miners, factory workers, or members of the legendary valarjar, everyone must do their part to ensure the stormborn way of life continues. Furthermore, the first inhabitants of Ysmir had to contend with the vicious beasts living in the Utgaard Mountains, which included sabercats and something called a vhargulf. My stormborn companion refused to tell me what sort of creature it was, but he sounded terrified when he spoke of it. In order to survive those harsh, bloody days, the people of Ysmir learned how to defend themselves without the aid of firearms, and even their children were taught how to fight with knives and swords. The eldri took pains to tell me that no stormborn child that hasn't endured the Three Trials has ever been allowed to touch a gun. He ignored all my questions about what the Three Trials were and instead began to talk about the end of the Hundred Year Harrowing.
Gherish explorers, led by a man named Wilcott Fisk, arrived on Ysmir and established contact with the stormborn, though they quickly discovered something that would change the island's fate forever. Vast mother lodes of gold, iron, and copper ore were scattered throughout the Utgaard Mountains, and Wilcott was savvy enough to know he'd just made his fortune. Employing the stormborn as miners and builders, Wilcott built the Fisk Industries factory at the base of Ulfrang Peak before sending messages to his financiers back home. There weren't many stormborn left after the Hundred Year Harrowing, and they needed the money Wilcott was offering to start importing goods from Dover, so they allowed this to happen. Less than five years later, numerous mining companies, such as the Three Picks Mining Company and Red Diamond Excavations, established a presence on Ysmir, though they often came into conflict with the stormborn. Unlike Wilcott, who'd spent time amongst the natives, the soldiers protecting company assets didn't know or care about local customs.
The fighting was on the verge of degenerating into all-out war when Sorthar the Wise, a shrewd and respected stormborn, convinced the two groups to form a ruling body that represented both their interests. Thus, the Moot of Ysmir was born, composed of eight stormborn and the owners of the four most prominent businesses on the island.
Eldri Skovald's expression darkened when he told me this part, and I got the distinct impression he disapproved of his ancestors’ decision. "But," he growled, his voice as hard and uncompromising as the granite floor of his house, "they did what was best for Ysmir. That is all that matters." I'm not sure whether the gray-haired eldri was trying to convince me or himself, but he moved on to what resulted from this union between the helgus and the stormborn. With the Moot arbitrating disputes and ensuring stormborn traditions were honored, Ysmir began to trade with Ghersland and Canth in exchange for food, clean drinking water, and other supplies. It was a time of unparalleled prosperity for the otherwise forgettable chunk of rock. And then Corwin Fisk, the late Wilcott Fisk's son and newly appointed owner of Fisk Industries, brought an idea before the Moot.
He proposed that both the mining companies and the stormborn should turn their attention towards something more valuable than metal chairs, tables, and ornaments. "The nations of Canth and Ghersland are constantly fighting each other," he said as he stood before the Moot with a smile on his face, "and we have the finest warriors in the United Isles. The valarjar, the "golden warriors," were once used to hunt beasts in the Utgaard Mountains. Now, they can be used to hunt the enemies of anyone with enough money to hire them. Of course, all of us would get a cut of their earnings, but the people of this island stand to make a great deal of money. We could even manufacture and equip our soldiers with guns made from the ore they're still finding in the mountains." The Moot unanimously agreed. That's how the golden warriors of Ysmir became the most renowned fighters in the United Isles.
And that's the way life has been on the Island of the Stormborn for the last thousand years or so, my love. Can you believe it? Oh sure, the eldri mentioned a group of stormborn, calling themselves the Defiant or something like that, eventually deciding they could no longer stand living alongside corporations intent on pillaging their home. Allegedly, they haunt the foothills of the Utgaard Mountains and occasionally launch fruitless raids on company-controlled land, but they're considered a nuisance at worst. Life on Ysmir is better than it has ever been. The mining companies have become influential corporations, producing both peerless metal goods and weapons almost as formidable as those made in Dover. They've even managed to ensure the Island of the Stormborn remains neutral in the ongoing skirmishes between Canth and Ghersland. Even though they sell weapons to both nations. Still, the combined military forces of Dover could easily destroy Ysmir so the Ysmirod know better than to get too greedy. The stormborn would undoubtedly kill many people, but they're vastly outnumbered by their mainland counterparts. On that uplifting note, Eldri Skovald declared that he'd told me everything he knew about his homeland's past. He was apparently due to start his shift at the local Red Diamond mine so he had to leave soon.
I thanked him, of course, and handed him my mostly untouched cup of lichen beer. One thought I couldn't shake as I walked back to my apartment was how strange this place was. A place where crumbling statues of valarjar fighting sabercats stood next to shops selling the latest metal gewgaws and furniture. Curious, isn't it? Regardless, love of my life and sun of my sky, I shall return home soon and we can discuss this in more detail. I hope this letter wasn't too long, but I've attached it to a lovely Ysmirod-style dress that I purchased from one of the local tailors. I hope it fits. I look forward to seeing you soon, Caitlin, and be well!
Love beyond measure,
Simon Garret
This letter was found on the corpse of a Maruvian scholar named Simon Garret. His body was discovered outside the Red Diamond Excavation and Armaments airfield, with the words 'The Storm Remembers' carved into his chest.
