Why we travel

The world is in ruins. Has been, since anyone can remember. I was born in a village on the plateau of a razed mountain, where I spent the early years of my life. We were neighbored by the cloud farms of the sky giants, and gazed upon stretches of ruins littered across the plains below. Our elders told second hand tales of large settlements, where people - by the thousands or more, mind you – lived, and worked, and loved, and thrived, paying little mind to the world outside their walls.

It is difficult to picture that now, for attacks in the night are a constant. I always thought it saddest when we faced a group of haggard starving folk, driven to mad recklessness by the ache in their guts. Too many of those as I grew up. My people taught me to feed those we could, and shelter those who willed it. Though not much, we had some to spare for decent people. Some ended up settling down after defeat, believe it or not. I made a few good friends by sharing a bowl of thin soup. Heh, I remember that in my dastardly teenage years, we’d set out on ‘hunting trips’, all equipped and ordered to find some food to bring home or to trade with other villages, but we’d end up spending most of the day exploring markings on ruins, heh.

Strange drawings, those were. Pieces of parchment written in incomprehensible languages, instruments used for purposes long forgotten, women shaped stones and all sorts of oddities. Ah, and bones, can’t forget the bones. So many bones. We know this meant there were civilizations around, and scraps of tales around Zandor tell of a Great Calamity that made the world what it is now. I still don’t quite grasp what happened, but it was enormous in it’s reach and catastrophic in consequences. So much was lost in such a short time, it’s mind boggling that Zandor itself isn’t gone.

One time, we came across this underground structure, close to a cairn. We had stopped to eat and rest, but curiosity, as it often does, got the best of me. I delved down, copying as best I could any markings that remained on the walls to bring back home. In the back of the room, half under a pile of rocks, was a skeleton. Nestled in its petrified arms lay a book, in such a tight embrace that even as a corpse, it might worry it’d be robbed. I took it and leafed through it's crumbling and stained pages, filled with diagrams, scribbles and drawings. On the last written page, there was a drawing of what seemed like and animal next to scattered marbles. To this day, it’s all gibberish to me, but what actually dazzled me was the book’s cover.

A beautiful thing, bound in varnished wood, incrusted with gemstones, and carved with some of the markings I’d seen on the walls.  Someone took great care in the confection of that cover, it was clear to see. I was lost to the world in the glisten of those stones, and THAT, was when I heard the screams. A cacophony of deafening noises all around, some of it I could understand. I was told to drop the book and run, so that’s what I did.  But the moment it hit the ground, with that dry CLOMP sound, the screaming halted. I already had my knife in hand, looking for whatever was coming my way.

The other kids heard the echo of the fallen books and came for me, horned Aerithra, Magnus, the cat, Suki, and River Rock – we called him that because of his bald head heh. They all laugh now when telling how long it took me to realize death hadn’t come for us and remained befuddled in the middle of that room, but helped me understand that what I heard where echoes of what had been. They tested me at length that night. Suki and River Rock have been together since that night, they say it’s because of something I told them I heard, but won’t tell me what.

Well, since then, that has helped me learn a lot more from the ruins. Those etchings we see by the main gate? I taught those shapes to Froenar. They are now in everything he makes, though we have no idea what it means. And the way we dry meat in a clay smoker? I learned that in some ruin to the east, though they had different crockery. My own wedding band was cast and etched using drawings Aerithra and I saw in a southwestern village, while perusing some antiques the local merchant peddled. Every expedition brought back pieces of the past which I could eventually piece together, but much more that I couldn’t yet.

-But pa, I only asked why do we keep travelling. It gets tiresome.

Well my boy, we travel to share this knowledge we gather, and to acquire ever more. The world IS in ruins, but it hasn’t always been so. If we work well, it won’t have be in ruins anymore.