This old book is titled "Dragoon Zytl - Green Rank". It is the account of a dark elven soldier that appears to have lived hundreds of years ago. Its chronicle tells of this dark elf's rise through the ranks of the Dragoons. Through much work, most of the missing pages have been found.
I have passed the nine trials. I have defeated my enblooded brothers in mortal combat. I have drunk from the Chalice of Hate. I have bended the knee to our glorious King. I have torn away the chains of my home. I have stripped away the ties to my family name. I am no longer T'Xerd. I am now Zytl. I am now Dragoon.
The commander has assigned our company to watch over the bridge for the following decade. I am proud to guard the bridge, for I am a Dragoon. I saw some halflings enter the forest today. Our forest. They were curious. They are now dead.
I have now mastered the Three-Singing-Skulls technique today with my blade. In recognition of my skill, my blade will be blessed by the priests of hate. No longer will those balls of light gleam with smug defiance as my steel passes through them. Not one wisp will escape my vigilance.
I have received an honor today. We spied some dervish cutthroats approaching the bridge and stopped them. Much fighting ensued, and in the end they had slain all but myself. The bandits were in truth my Prince and his entourage disguised as commoners. I was commended for lasting as long as I did from his very mouth. I will wear these scars with pride.
The Dragoons will no longer guard the bridge, leaving it to the lower births to do so. This is the decree from my glorious King. Some say that the Queen has made this decree, not the King. The next one to say this will also have his tongue severed from his mouth.
I am to escort our prestigious necromancers to the Innothule swamp. We will waylay some of the lowly Trolls and bring them back with us. It will test my discipline to not kill them as the animals they are. I pray to Innoruuk that he will give me an opportunity to vent elsewhere.
Innoruuk is testing me. I have been assigned to watch over the Foreign Quarter. To watch over all of the Lessers... and not to slaughter them. I must not question my King's orders, but I do not understand why they should be allowed to walk among us. I must find some way to hurt these inferior beings, whilst maintaining my vows.
It has been two hundred years, and I have risen amongst the ranks. I am now free to choose my assigned duties. I have placed my request to join the strike teams that roam the West Commonlands. After all of these years watching the lessers walk in safety within our city... now they will pay for their assumptions of equality.
Innoruuk is with me. The larger that Freeport becomes, the more it expels travelers from its' sickening walls. The more that travel the Western Commonlands, the more that learn the mistakes of their ancestors. The Teir'Dal are the masters, and the rest are the chattel to do with as we please.
I have been raised to the Black Ranks due to my unswerving vigilance. I now wear the full armor of the Dragoon. My blade, soaked with the blood of many a traveler, will be reforged and I will be given another honor. I shall escort D'Vinn to the lands of our worthless cousins. I shall witness the beginning of their downfall.