The Ibeosian War Told by Sir Carter Briggs

Life, Relocation

--It has been two weeks since I have been transferred to the front lines in the savannahs of Padsin. I write this journal in order to keep a record of my life, as that is the very purpose of my life. This war is a ghastly one, a nightmare in which there is no appreciated wake. I have been out in the trenches as ordered by the Grecian Senate; taking notes to relay back home, in order to find rhyme or cause to why this war was begun. I have found none. What I find is men in the field, as well as boys no older than my own, and twice as sullen. They have rightful cause to be sullen. This war has butchered spirits and wasted lives on a scale none ever seen before. Hopefully, none ever to be seen again. It has been thirty-two years. In all that time I was stationed in Greca. In the safety and comfort of home. The General is telling us there are to be lights out soon, as the moon is scarce and it can give away the position of our encampment. I pray that sunrise comes quickly. --The sunrise came and with it the devastation of my encampment. I barely survived. Flames scattered across the camp bursting into high crimson pillars and explosions. I left my tent to find my compatriots being cut down and burned alive. I had only seconds before the same happened to me. It is then I saw a soldier I had become good friends with over the course of our time here. He told me to run. I saw an arrow fly into his temple. His body went stiff, as his face went from confusion to bitter acceptance as if to say "They got me, huh?". I am ashamed to say I did as he instructed. I took one of the remaining horses that were set loose and fled. I have been traveling for days in the harsh dry environment, without sight of help. Perhaps, it is my time as well. To be swallowed by this war which will soon consume the world.

--It has been two weeks since I have been transferred to the front lines in the savannahs of Padsin. I write this journal in order to keep a record of my life, as that is the very purpose of my life. This war is a ghastly one, a nightmare in which there is no appreciated wake. I have been out in the trenches as ordered by the Grecian Senate; taking notes to relay back home, in order to find rhyme or cause to why this war was begun. I have found none. What I find is men in the field as well as boys no older than my own, and twice as sullen. They have rightful cause to be sullen. This war has butchered spirits and wasted lives on a scale none ever seen before. Hopefully, none ever be seen again. It has been thirty-two years. In all that time I was stationed in Greca. In the safety and comfort of home. The General is telling us there are to be lights out soon, as the moon is scarce and it can give away the position of our encampment. I pray that sunrise comes quick. --The sunrise came and with it the devastation of my encampment. I barely survived. Flames scattered across the camp like that of the ocean across the beaches of Greca. I left my tent to find my compatriots being cut down and burned alive. I had only seconds before the same happened to me. It is then I saw a soldier I had become good friends with over the course of our time here. He told me to run. Then, I saw an arrow fly between his head. The sickening thud his body made as it hits the ground still haunts me. His eyes in the last moment went from confusion to bitter acceptance as if to say "They got me, huh?". I am ashamed to say I did as he instructed. I took one of the remaining horses that were set loose and fled. I have been traveling for days in the harsh dry environment, without sight of help. Perhaps, it is my time as well. To be swallowed by this war which will soon consume the world.