Georgid the Breaker

Why is Georgid, folk hero of Arnoc and savior of the hallowed Yuletide, known as the Breaker? There are many answers, and each is true, for it is a name he has earned many times over, in infamy and in glory. When his tale begins, Georgid is a breaker of an oath. He renounced his loyalty to the Free City he once served – which in particular goes unrecorded, as do any other identifying details about the man once known as Sir Georgid. During the dreadful War of Kaerok, with fractures and infighting among the Free Cities, there were many who became disillusioned with the knightly vows they had sworn to men who turned out to be squabbling, visionless leaders. Other deserter-knights were content to wile away their days as mercenaries, thugs, or guardsmen, and hide their fall from grace in the anonymity of the past. But not Georgid. That he was willing to give his life over to the Free City of Arnoc makes Georgid a breaker, then, of expectations, in comparison to the many so-called noble warriors who nonetheless quailed, stalled, and dissembled when the call went out from the Free City for a champion. The dreadful days of the Verminlord’s Plague, unleashed by dread Gnishak upon the city on the hallowed Yuletide Eve, had raged unabated for nigh on a year. With the grim Yuletide anniversary of the plague approaching, the will of the people was about to break and Arnoc’s councilmen were desperate for answers. Thanks to a humble townsman they had learned of Gnishak’s lair in the sewers, but braving those depths to find and kill the mad Skinwalker monarch was a prospect that chilled the souls of even doughty Kaerok knights, fanatics of the Sacred Order, and Arnoc’s own garrison troops. But there was one man who had nothing to lose and redemption to gain, or so he believed, and Georgid the Breaker broke the ominous silence that answered the councilmen’s call to arms. Georgid declared that he would slay Gnishak Verminlord or die trying, never to return either in defeat nor victory, for no matter the outcome he would surely be corrupted beyond hope by the horrid works of the plague-bringer and his swarm. He vowed to break the oozing fortress of the Verminlord, or break himself upon it. Oathbreaker though he had been in a past life, he swore his love for the good folk of Arnoc and all Teleria, his devotion to Lumaya and her Light, and the holy Yule that was meant to be a beacon of that Light in the darkest days. He swore it would shine through him this Yule, even if in a hopeless struggle. The gods may not always appear to listen, and cannot answer every prayer, but they are fickle, and may be audient to pleas. On that day, so the tales tell, Lumaya sent Sir Nicholas, avatar of the Yuletide and saint of her Light, to the very council chamber where Georgid stood. All present were struck with awe, and the proud men who had shunned the call to arms were humbled and knew shame. But Nicholas had not come for that purpose, and spoke forthwith with Georgid. ‘Would you give up your very skin and flesh to save the Yule?’ Sir Nicholas asked. Georgid's answer was yes. ‘Then be you clad in skin that shall never break and flesh that shall never tire, and armed with blades that shall pierce any plate. Grim-faced and iron-clad you will go down into the darkness below where the Light of Lumaya cannot reach, knowing that no taint shall touch you nor filth cling to you. You shall be our perfect soldier, and break this siege 'ere the passing of the sacred Yuletide.’ With a flash Sir Nicholas was gone, and his words were true, for Georgid had changed. He was encased from head to toe in plates of holy armor bonded to his mortal form, his face a mask of steel determination. He spoke not, instead marching into the stinking bowels of the sewers of Arnoc. And though his armored form was proof against all its horrors, the words of his original vow rang true, for he never emerged from the foul depths in triumph. But as Sir Nicholas the Lightbringer had prophesied, the rat-siege of Gnishak Verminlord was broken, and the weary defenders and traumatized survivors knew joy and light on the Yuletide that came. Like the breaking of a fever the malignant plague finally subsided as the pestilent rats vanished into the darkness, to be feared and remembered for all time, but seen no longer. The fate of both the Verminlord and the Breaker will never be known, but their story will be told for eternity.