WARNING! The following page contains spoilers for the lore and story of Worlds Adrift
Exhibit 52. Travel writings c.1500, Translated from the original Verduban. Museum of Ascension, Momoros.
The buildings are geometrically neat and square in comparison to our own, and now unlike those in the Gallish style. Bandinian serfs can be seen in every part of Redusa, chamferimg and chiselling the stone, which comes in by ship at the harbour. We have all heard tell of the watchman, a gigantic stattue straddling the harbour gate. Sadly these reports are exaggerated, since not only has the greater part of its body long since sunk beneath the waves, leaving only two leg stumps, but sandstorms from the south have worn away any painted detail. While lush and overflowing with life, Sabor is burning hot.
After a long sea voyage we needed rest, and as it turned out, we were hospitably received. A mesmerising pair - a female, with a tall and lithe body, and a man whose biceps were bursting - sliced open the skin of a spotted wild-cat, which had been filled to bloating with wine, and I was given a small noggin with which to scoop my share. The dainty sweetmeats that followed were a triumph, though the Saborians themselved did not partake, for they take immense pride in the physical perfection of their bodies. Some underhand jokes were made vis-avis our "chubiness" in comparison to most of the Saborians, to whom vanity is no crime. Nevertheless, it meant we as well fed as any at the palace, since the thought that we might be in any way dissatisfied was terrifying to them. Our first night we found the bed linens to be feather-stuffed, just as at home, and the translator expressed how greatly the Saborians wanted us to feel welcome. We were offered bedside companions, and many of us took them.
The second day, it was too hot to be outside. We stayed in the cool and angular tower, and were regaled with tales of the hunt by a wise-speaker. He conjured images of great beasts and creatures lurking above and below ground. Ants the size of foxes who live only in darkness, a horse that peeled to life from the trunk of an ancient tree. But foremost, was the story of Minuras of Conos. No sooner had the wise-speaker begun it, than the Saborians became quiet and attentive.
Long ago there was a terror know as the Windebeast, a spirit born entirely of cloud. The Windebeast terrorised the delta, and many innocents died in its stormy grasp. Minuras of Conos bravely decided he must slay it. He undertook the journey north to the Mount of Plenty, where it had its lair. He had heard that lightning would erupt from the Windebeast's fingers, and decided he must either be so fast as to dodge them, or else so well-protected as to endure them. Not being known for his speed, Minuras fashioned a gigantic shield twice his height and width, behind which he could conceal himself. On entering the cave, the Windebeast poured all its might into the storm, and even Minuras' clever shield was not enough to deflect the jolt. They say Minuras was found three days later, burned as if he had been on fire, but still alive. Minuras was pronounced a god himself, for in the effort to kill him, the Windebeast had fractured into a thousand eddies. I am told the plateau of the Mount of Plenty still whistles with its voice.
These sorts of stories continued throughout the day, as we enjoyed dried but succulent fruits.
As night came, and the day's warmth remained, great leafy fans wafted cool air upon our party, and their was music, and a display of nude dancing by athletic girls and boys. Demeron was delirious with the wine and gaiety, and tried to join in. Our hosts took great offense, halting the performance directly and instructing guards to chaperon Demeron outside. Thereupon he was held at spear-point until we had muddled an apology. The embarrassing incident hung over us the following morning, and it seemed proper to escape the awkwardness of the palace.
We took a trip out along the river Saba toward the grand delta, where its tributaries fan out like palm fronds, easing toward the sea. This bay of north-west Sabor curves like a blade, or the new moon, and they call it "the perfect crescent", because its people have everything they desire.
Our vessel was fine and stately. The sun beamed and shone, but a breeze took the edge off the heat. Small boats, filled with chickens, goats, fisherfolk, and ferrymen, ran us by. Tombs and temples, in varying states of disrepair, specked the river banks, and we'd stop off at as many as could. Some contained undecipherable writings, and painted casks filled with the possessions of the dead. The Saborians claim that they were among the first civilisations, and heaving cruised along their delta, I have no reason to doubt it. These constructions appear very old indeed. I saw for example, an obelisk commemorating a general at a battle waged long before the Bandinian war, itself nearly a thousand years ago.
Section 6 MISSING
Section 7 MISSING