Tales from the Unknown Territories

In one of the market taverns of Diwan I met a strange man. He was tall and strong, with curly blond hair and a suntanned complexion. Which made him quite some sight in Diwan, among the blue skinned Dernians, the dark haired, tanned Lubanians and the pale Dalethians. His dress was simple, something like goat skin leather, rough wool, furs. He came out of the Wild Lands, as he told us. A wild man from the Wild Lands. We bought him a beer and asked him to tell us the tales from the unknown territories.

His name was Niblañ¹ . He was 26 years old and lived in the Wild Lands for all his life. He was chosen to go to Diwan and sell the products of his people, buy the things they needed, and then return home. Home was, as he told us, no place in this world, but the community of people that roamed the desert in large carts. The community and the place where the carts halted had the same name, translated home. He said they called it “dæ-kerwi”.
I asked about the carts and the dæ-kerwi, for never before had I heard of these nomads. Niblañ was a little surprised by my questions, but answered all the same.

A long tome ago, so told Niblañ, his people had real stone houses, build unmovable in the Lands. They had cities of utter splendour, surrounded with the most superb gardens. One day, a very long time ago, even his grandfathers great-grandfather was not even born in those times, the sky lit up, thunder roared and the earth trembled. Tremors split the land, hills collapsed, rivers fled. The towns and cities were destroyed, houses became ruins. Dust-winds came over the damaged lands and covered in clouds of chalk. The culture they had, was gone.
But they took the remains of the society, formed their communities, and got a new life, the life they still have, wandering the Wild Lands. “Four communities were formed in that time. Three are still here. What happened to the forth, no one knows. They might have disappeared from this world, they might have sailed the seas and settled elsewhere. Fact is, we don’t know.”

I wondered about these fourth community. How many people have disappeared from this world, how many came here without knowing from where they came? This world, I reckon, has many more doors than we might think it has. And nobody knows who owns the keys.

“Do you have faith in gods? Religion? Worship?” I asked Niblañ.
He nodded. “Is there a people that does not have faith?” he countered, but then started telling about the faith of the Wild Lands.
Just after the disaster he had mentioned before, now known as The Big Fall, one of the larger round lakes of the Wild Lands had its water level lowered by an unknown force. As one of the communities watched the lake dry up, the towers of an ancient city rose from the water. Immediately, the other communities were warned and sent some of their men to investigate the old city.
But it was dangerous on the lake, with maelstroms and all, so they could not sail the lake and waited till it had dried up entirely. They waited, and then, the lake was empty. They made way to the city, that had been build on a hill in the centre of the former lake. Rotting algae and dead fish made the journey disgusting, but some fine artifacts from ancient times made it worthwhile. But the most astonishing artifact of all was the city itself. It must have been build by a powerful people, the dæ-kerwi thought, gods, or godlike creatures.
They entered the city through the remains of wooden doors, walked over its algae covered streets and watched the high buildings, houses, temples, shops, factories may
(manuscript is torn here)

¹ This, dear readers, is a Dutch insider joke. Niblañ is how “niet van belang” is pronounced by one who does not want to be understood at all. Niet van belang means “of no importance”. His name was of no importance.